Something Worth Dying For
by AveryGrace824
Summary: Love is never easy. It's painful and scary and sometimes even gut-wrenching. But it is also the most beautiful thing we will ever encounter. And to protect such a precious possession, we would give our lives.
1. Darkest Dreams

**A/N:** I just have to say that I am in love with these two! It's been a while since a new show has caught my attention like this (not since Vampire Diaries) and I just cannot get enough. I have to warn you that I have a two-year-old and my husband and I are in the process of moving so I don't have a lot of time, but I promise to try and update at least once a week. I hope you enjoy!

**Summary: ** Love is never easy. It's painful and scary and sometimes even gut-wrenching. But it is also the most beautiful thing we will ever encounter. And to protect such a precious possession, we would give our lives.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Beauty and the Beast or any of the characters there-in. If I did, we'd see a lot more of Jay Ryan than just his torso!

Chapter 1: Darkest Dreams

Drip, Drip, Drip.

The sound reached Catherine's ears before she became fully conscious, but she couldn't place it. It echoed in the oddest way, as if she were in a cavernous room instead of her cozy apartment.

Drip, Drip, Drip.

Now that she thought about it, she certainly wasn't lying on her soft, warm bed. She was on a rock hard floor and she was freezing. Her body shook and the pain reverberated through her entire body, focusing in her head.

_Just open your eyes_, she told herself. Surely whatever she saw would jog her memory and tell her how she came to be in this position. Her eyelids fluttered, but the intrusion of light increased the pain in her head and she clamped them shut.

"I wouldn't recommend that," said a voice from somewhere close by. With a jolt of fear, she realized why it was so familiar.

Without thinking, she opened her eyes wide and saw the roof of a familiar warehouse. She was at Vincent's; that was reassuring. But why was _he_ here?

"The pain will subside. You're injuries are not severe," Silverfox assured her. She heard his footfalls on the cold floor and he finally hovered into her line of sight, smirking down at her.

"W-what happened," she slurred, attempting to turn her head.

"Not important. It's all over now."

As his words registered in her jumbled mind, the panic in her gut increased until she thought she'd be sick. Ignoring her pounding head, she pulled herself upright, scanning the warehouse for any sign of Vincent.

"Where is he?! What did you do to him," she shouted, making it to her knees before a wave of dizziness sent her back to the floor.

"I ended his nightmare. He can't hurt anyone anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Silverfox's impassive eyes strayed to the rafters and she followed his gaze… and nearly passed out again. Her sob stuck in her throat but her eyes wouldn't close to block out the nightmare before her.

Vincent was stretched across two rafters, his head lolling upside down and his eyes staring and empty. The dripping reverberated off the walls as his blood trickled down to the floor.

With a shriek, Catherine shot up in her bed, attempting to strangle the ridiculous sobs coming from her throat, but she couldn't stop the hysterics. That was the fifth time she had that dream and each time she felt as though she couldn't breathe. She reminded herself that Vincent was alive and well, that Silverfox was dead, but her tear ducts didn't believe her. Her sheets were quickly soaked with her tears.

"Cat, you okay," Heather called, knocking quietly on the door.

"I-I… I'm f-f-fine," she cried, biting down on her lip to stop the quivering.

"No you're not." Heather let herself in, situating herself at the end of Catherine's bed and taking her hand. "What was it tonight? Or do you still not want to talk about it?"

"I… I c-can't."

"Okay, fine."

Catherine welcomed Heather's hug, though she felt a little guilty allowing her sister to comfort her; talk about a reversal of roles.

"Maybe we should get you something to drink. And I'm not talking milk. I know we have some Vodka around here somewhere," Heather suggested.

A small chuckle made its way past Catherine's lips as she pulled back and wiped her eyes.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine." At least physically she would. Her ego on the other hand…

Heather seemed to be reading her mind. "You know, just because you're a cop doesn't mean you have to be tough all the time."

Catherine rolled her eyes and took some deep breaths, feeling her lungs release.

"If it'll make you feel better, I'll settle for the milk."

Heather smiled and jumped up, headed for the kitchen. As soon as she was alone, Catherine's gaze fell on her cell phone. Her fingers itched to call him, just to make sure he was really okay. But… this wasn't a "dire emergency." She'd had a bad dream; she couldn't risk his life for that.

But part of her knew she couldn't really calm down until she heard his voice.

She'd just made the decision to reach for the phone when Heather returned with a glass.

"You sure you're okay now? The screaming was pretty bad this time," Heather asked as Catherine took the milk with a shaking hand.

"Screaming?" She hadn't realized she'd been screaming.

"Yeah. A lot of it."

Catherine felt even guiltier as she saw the concern in her sister's eyes. "I'm so, so sorry. Maybe I _should_ have that drink before bed. But I promise I'm fine now."

She could tell Heather didn't believe her, but she didn't voice her concerns.

"Alright. But if you need anything, just call me."

Once she was left alone, the milk was shaking so badly in her hand, she didn't think she could lift it to her lips and sat it with a plop on the nightstand. There was really no point going back to sleep tonight. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his lifeless face staring back. It wasn't like nightmares were a new thing in her line of work, and she hadn't had a good night's sleep since her mother's murder, but having them about a man who was very much alive in her life right now only amped up her fears.

Yes, Silverfox was dead, but how long before the rest of Muirfield discovered his secret?

~BATB~

Six am came too soon and Catherine found herself on the shores of the Hudson with no real memory of how she'd come to be there.

"Wow, those are some major circles under your eyes. Who kept you up," Tess asked with a smirk.

"I wish that was it," Catherine replied, but offered no other explanation. The sleep deprivation had left her in a fog.

"Fine, keep your secrets. Just know that I'm on to you."

Normally, Catherine would have smiled, but she couldn't find her humor this morning.

"So, what did Joe call us out here for this early? Someone drown in the Hudson," Catherine asked.

"Or was dumped. The guy isn't exactly dressed to go out on a boat."

As they made their way to the water's edge and under the yellow tape, her eyes landed on the distorted figure of a man who had been in the water for days.

"It's not exactly pretty," Evan commented as they walked up.

Tess made a face. "Find anything… besides the smell?"

"Several bruises. Some look like they were inflicted before he died," Evan confirmed.

"Supports your dump theory," Catherine noted.

Tess nodded. "And that suit looks like it used to be a designer. Rich guy."

Catherine surveyed the victim, noting that there wasn't likely to be much evidence left on the body. The fish and the water had taken care of that. His body was bloated and purple, making it hard to focus on the features, but underneath the retched appearance there was something familiar. Something that brought her dream back to the forefront of her mind.

"Oh my…," she blurted out before she could stop herself. When she looked up, both Evan and Tess were staring at her in curiosity.

"What is it? You notice something," Tess asked.

"Uh… no. It's just the smell."

Before they could question her, she turned back for her car. "There's something I need to look into. I'll call you soon," she threw over her shoulder, hoping they didn't seem too suspicious.

She was just climbing into her car when she noticed a figure standing just at the line of trees. It wasn't unusual for people to come investigate when they heard the sirens, but this man was all too familiar.

But before she could be certain it was Silverfox, he was gone.

"I'm losing my mind," she muttered to herself, shaking her head and peeling out onto the road. She chose her turns carefully, taking unnecessary detours to ascertain that no one was following her and finally made it to the warehouse.

JT's car was gone; probably at work. Through the fear and trepidation, a little sprig of excitement coursed through her at the thought of being alone with Vincent, but she pushed it away. The feelings were both confusing and unnecessary right now. There was no chance of her surprising him and sure enough, he opened the door for her before she could knock.

"Were you in the neighborhood or is it just our coffee," Vincent joked, smiling down at her. Ever since she'd admitted that she was afraid of him at times, he'd been trying overly hard to lighten the mood around her. But his smile warmed her heart and took away some of her anxiety… while also adding something totally different. Her stomach gave a little flip.

"Actually, it's about a case."

Vincent's face dropped, but he was serious as he led her up to his loft. His head swiveled around for a minute, taking in the sounds surrounding them, but he seemed untroubled.

"Those guys from Muirfield, what did you do with the bodies?"

"We dumped them in the Hudson. The water would wash away the evidence if they were found and… Why?"

"I think one of them just washed up."

Vincent's eyes widened for only a second before a calm façade settled over him.

"Like I said, the water should have washed everything away," he reiterated, settling into a seat at the table.

"But they'll figure out who he is. I doubt being an agent with Muirfield will come up in his history, but it will alert other agents. They'll know you killed him and they'll send others to come looking for you."

"Cat, they've been looking for me for ten years."

"But they thought you were dead."

"And they might still think that. We don't know what Silverfox told them."

"Exactly! We don't know."

Vincent eyed her, searching at first, but his lips slowly lifted upwards into a smile. "I'll be fine. Why don't we see how this plays out instead of giving ourselves a heart attack before we know anything."

He was staring at her with such amusement that it finally cracked her determination and she found herself smiling back.

"So, what were you doing before I barged in and rained on your good morning."

"You didn't rain on anything. I was just working out."

Catherine surveyed his torso, noting how each line of muscle was discernible through his t-shirt. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she realized she'd been staring and turned her gaze to the other side of the warehouse to hide her blush.

As she took a few steadying breaths, she noticed an assortments of objects and papers littering his work bench.

"What's all that?"

"The stuff from the Muirfield agents. I took it hoping it would be useful, but apparently they didn't carry classified information with them," he explained.

Catherine walked over to the table, looking over the collection of wallets and badges. Several pictures of Vincent were there as well, some of his younger days and some of a terrifying beast with glaring yellow eyes. She pulled her gaze from them and was suddenly aware of how close Vincent was beside her.

"They're not exactly pleasant," he noted, and the sadness in his eyes broke her heart.

"Vincent, I–"

"No, it's fine. I understand. I'm scared of me sometimes too."

"I'm not scared of you. I'm scared of what you're capable of. But that doesn't mean I don't trust you."

He looked like he wanted to respond to that, but instead he changed the subject.

"So, where do your colleagues think you are?"

"Uh… I didn't exactly tell them anything. They probably think I've lost my mind." At her words, the memory of her vision of Silverfox flitted across her mind, and she muttered, "Maybe I have."

She gave her head a little shake and looked up to meet Vincent's forlorn face. Instantly, she realized how her words could have been construed and reached out to lay her hand on his.

"That's not what I meant. You're the best part of my day; trust me."

"Yeah, I get that from all the girls," Vincent jibbed. Catherine rolled her eyes, but didn't pull her hand away from his. Somehow that simple contact filled her with such comfort she felt that nothing could hurt her.

His gaze traveled down to her hand, lingering there as if unraveling a mystery.

"I… I guess I should probably get back to work," she finally responded, shoving her hand back in her jacket pocket.

"Yeah. And, don't worry about the agent. We'll come up with something."

Catherine smiled and was about to turn to go when a glimmer of gold on the work bench caught her eye. It was a thick, golden ring with the letters VV engraved in a dark, green stone.

"What's this?"

"We're not sure," Vincent responded. "Silverfox was wearing it. JT's checking it out now. He thinks it might be a fraternity or a college."

"Maybe. I think I've seen this somewhere."

"The double Vs?"

"No, the ring." She picked it up, examining the intricately woven letters, but her memory failed her. "I'll keep thinking."

She laid the ring back on the bench and turned to leave.

"Cat, wait. You think it would be okay if I came over tonight. After a while this warehouse feels like a prison."

"Like you've actually been staying in." She couldn't help it when her lips twitched upwards; she was certain he hadn't given up his habit of following her around the city. "It's fine."

~BATB~

The air was crisp, but felt refreshing on his face. This was one thing Vincent missed, being able to just sit outside without fear of being seen. Even now, his sensitive hearing was on over drive, listening to make sure none of Catherine's neighbors decided to take the fire escape.

She would be home soon and they could simply be with each other and talk as though they were normal friends. Maybe if he stayed long enough he could forget that he had to slink along in the shadows on his way back home, terrified of making contact with a single person on the way. She had a way of doing that to him.

And she was doing more than just that. He hadn't had physical contact with anyone in so long. He'd forgotten how sensitive every nerve ending in his body was until she'd touched his face for the first time. The feel of her warm skin against his awoke the animal inside him and set every inch of his skin on fire. And earlier, when she'd touched his hand it had taken everything in him not to take more. She sent his already heightened senses on overdrive; it was intoxicating.

But he had to keep his head. He could hurt her so easily and he couldn't control the beast when she distracted him like that.

He was pulled from his reverie by the click of her lock and the sound of the front door sliding open. Had he really been so out of it that he'd missed her car pull up? He'd been watching the streets below.

He extended his hearing, paying distinct attention to the footfalls moving through the apartment and realized with a start that they were not Catherine's. They were too heavy to be her sister's but who else had a key to her door?

The steps were coming closer now and there was no hesitation as they reached the bedroom door. Vincent just had time to climb higher on the fire escape as the intruder entered Catherine's bedroom. He was tempted to peek in and see who it was… but what if he was seen.

He heard the man rummaging around in her drawers and then the sound of his knees hitting the floor as he looked under the bed. Who was this guy?

Vincent was determined to get a good look at his face and had just taken a step back down when the sound he'd been waiting for alerted him to an even greater problem. Catherine had just pulled into the parking deck and would be making her way up at any second.

It was time to act. If he was fast enough, the man wouldn't even know what hit him.

With lightning quickness, Vincent ran down the stairs and sprang through the window, coming to rest in a crouch on the floor… only to find an empty room.

That was odd. Quietly, Vincent made his way out into the hall, checking first the bathroom, then Heather's bedroom, but finding no one. He was just moving into the living room when the front door opened and a confused looking Catherine stepped through.

"Vincent? What's going on," she asked, clued in by his dark expression.

"Someone was here… but he's gone."

**A/N:** Well, what do you think? Who was in Catherine's room? Any theories? Please, leave a review and let me know!


	2. A Mystery

**A/N:** I'm still reeling from last night's episode. My heart literally broke for Vincent! I want to thank all who reviewed and read; it means the world to me!

Chapter 2: A Mystery

The next morning, Catherine lay in bed, staring up at her ceiling. It was five in the morning and she'd finally grown tired of trying to fall back to sleep. She and Vincent had spent most of the night searching her apartment for clues as to who had been there, but came up empty. She even dusted for prints on the doorknob, but nothing unusual came back.

The fact that still had her head spinning in circles was that the intruder had managed to leave without Vincent hearing it. With all his super senses, how had that happened? Who could have been that quick and silent?

Vincent, of course, had been livid and it wasn't until Heather had finally made it home that he agreed to leave.

Unfortunately, this wasn't her biggest worry. She still had the body of a Muirfield agent to deal with and she had no idea what the plan of action would be if more of them showed up looking for Vincent. And that story about how only Silverfox's cell knew about her just didn't add up.

"Can't sleep," a deep voice whispered and Catherine nearly fell out of bed.

"Vincent?! What are you doing?"

He dropped his face to hide his smile and moved to sit on her windowsill.

"I didn't want to leave you alone."

"Wait; you've been here all night?"

"I stayed out on the fire escape just in case he came back."

Catherine was quiet, taking a moment to sort that through in her head. She didn't know if she should be angry or offended, but part of her found it amusing.

"You know, as a cop it's usually my job to protect people, not the other way around."

"I know, I know. You can defend yourself. I just wanted to know you were okay."

His eyes were suddenly pleading, begging for her acceptance and it felt like she could see straight into his broken soul. How could she be angry at him when he pulled a face like that?

"It's fine. But you need to sleep too. You can't follow me around every second," she explained, smiling to convey that she wasn't upset with him. "And to answer your question, no, I can't sleep."

In fact, she was still shaking off the most recent nightmare involving Silverfox. This time she entered the crime scene by the Hudson to find Vincent's dead body instead to the agent's. Tess and Evan had been standing around, asking her why she was crying. And that was the end of her measly three hours of sleep.

"Maybe you need a vacation. Seriously, when was the last time you left all this behind for a week," Vincent asked, and just the sound of his voice chased the memory of the dream away.

"Honestly… maybe two years ago." She laughed a little at just how obsessed she was with work. "I guess I'm kinda overdue."

"Where would you go? Ocean, mountains… Disneyland?"

Catherine chuckled again, just at the smile on Vincent's face. She realized it was nice to talk to him first thing in the morning like this, before the rest of the world came crashing down on her.

"Mountians. My family has a cabin in upstate New York, near the Catskills. It was always so peaceful there."

"Why haven't you gone back?"

This explanation was a little harder and she swallowed away the sudden tears before explaining. "It was my mom's favorite place. I haven't been there since…"

Vincent nodded, but his eyes never left hers. Slowly, she moved to sit on the end of the bed, closer to the window.

"I used to love the mountains," he offered, skirting around the subject she didn't want to talk about. "I loved rock climbing as a kid. And the view… Me and my brothers would race each other to the top. Scared my mom to death."

"I've never heard you talk about your family."

"We had a lot of good times."

Catherine reached out to take his hand again and instantly felt the warmth from it seep into her skin, making her dizzy. She was suddenly overcome with such desire that she pulled her hand back and stood, hoping he hadn't noticed that her heart was suddenly hammering in her chest.

"How about some breakfast," she offered.

"Your sister's home. I think she might have questions if I just show up in your kitchen."

"Last I checked, you moved faster than she did. Besides, she never wakes up before seven-thirty."

Vincent took a second to think it over before following her into the kitchen. Cooking eggs and bacon with him sitting at the island watching her was a little odd. They'd never eaten together and he certainly hadn't shown up at her house first thing in the morning while she was still in her pajamas either. With that thought, she remembered that the tank top she was wearing didn't exactly leave a lot to the imagination and she was suddenly very self-conscious.

Should she run to her room and change? No, then he'd know she was self-conscious. She could pretend she was cold and grab a sweatshirt and–

She stopped herself right there. Why was she worrying about this? It wasn't like they could ever be in a relationship. For one thing, she was more than a little frightened of him sometimes and for another, he couldn't be seen out in public. Just the fact that they were standing in her kitchen cooking breakfast put him in danger.

And now she was burning the bacon. Flipping it quickly, she jumped when Vincent suddenly appeared at her side.

"The least I can do is scramble the eggs," he offered, working beside her and completely oblivious to the fact that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

"You cook?"

"I have to eat something," he laughed. "If JT cooked we'd die of food poisoning."

Her responding chuckle was a little too loud and she quickly brought her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

"You should do that more often," he suggested, taking her completely by surprise.

"Do what?"

"Laugh like that. You can't be serious all the time."

"It does feel pretty good. Maybe I just haven't had someone to laugh with in a while."

Was that a blush on Vincent's cheek? She stared at his scared face longer than was necessary, but could certainly distinguish the reddish tint. For once she wished she could hear his pulse, just to see how he reacted to her.

But then she remembered she shouldn't care. It would never work.

They ate on the couch, mostly swapping stories from happier times and as Catherine's fork scraped the plate for the last time, Vincent went rigid.

"What is it," Catherine asked, half expecting someone to come bursting through the door.

"Your sister's up. I better go," he explained, jumping up and turning for the window, but as he threw it open, he froze. "I'll be back tonight, just to make sure everything's secure."

"You do know I can do that all on my own."

This time, his answering smirk ignited a white hot fire in her belly. "I'll see you tonight."

He disappeared just as Heather called her name.

"Cat, you up already?"

"Uh… yeah, in here." As her sister made her way down the hall, Catherine realized that Vincent's plate was still sitting on the coffee table beside hers. How would she explain that?

Quickly, she snatched both plates and made it to the sink before Heather stepped foot in the kitchen.

"Oooh, you cooked breakfast," Heather exclaimed, but then noticed the pan was empty. "And apparently you didn't feel the need to save some for your sister."

"Oh, sorry. I can make more."

"Just kidding. You know I'm more of a bagel person anyway."

Heather took a seat at the island, eyeing Catherine in such a way that she wondered if she'd heard her and Vincent talking.

"I… um, I have to tell you something," Heather began. "I didn't want to tell you last night; I kinda thought I'd find it this morning but… I lost my key."

Catherine's lungs finally released as she realized Vincent was safe, Heather hadn't heard anything. But then the implication of what she'd said hit her.

Heather had lost her key. Vincent had heard a key turn the lock. That meant the intruder had free access to her apartment.

She was just deciding on the best response to that statement, something to keep her sister's suspicions down, when her phone rang.

"Chandler," she answered, noticing her voice was shaking.

"Cat? You okay," Evan asked.

"Oh… yeah, I'm fine."

"Listen, the ID came back on our victim. Thomas Greenly; he's an agent with the CIA. They're coming within the hour to take the body."

"What?"

"You might want to get down here."

"I'm on my way."

She swept down the hall, ignoring Heather's questions and mentally added the next growing problem on her list… Muirfield knew.

~BATB~

Vincent pulled his hood off as he made his way inside the fence surrounding the warehouse. His mind had been racing the entire journey home, analyzing every rise and fall of Catherine's heart rate. He just couldn't get her out of his head and he agonized over the idea that she might feel the same way. Not that it mattered. What woman in their right mind would step willingly into a romantic relationship with him? But the way she looked at him when–

His thoughts were cut short as an unfamiliar scent reached his nose. Someone had been here.

Carefully, he stepped through the door, listening for any sound of movement. All was quiet except for sound of the television coming from behind the "office" door. And then there was a shuffling noise, as if someone was pacing.

He placed one hand on the door, prepared to either fight or run if necessary and shoved it open, revealing…

JT pacing the floor with a book pressed to his face.

He looked up as Vincent entered and quickly assessed his odd mood. "What is it? Are we under attack?"

"Uh… no. Sorry."

"Are you planning on killing our door?"

At this remark, JT motioned to Vincent's hand which had nearly yanked the door off its hinges. He released it quickly, stepping over to the couch and falling into it.

"You seem pretty shaken. What happened," JT asked, setting down the book.

"There was an odd scent when I walked up. I thought someone else was here."

"People think this warehouse is abandoned. Kids dare each other to sneak in here all the time."

"Kids don't usually make it any further than the gate. And this was something different."

"Well, I've been here all night… not that you would know that. _You_ would have had to be here. What was it this time? Had to give the Heimlich to a choking homeless man?"

Vincent glared at JT, but couldn't feel the right kind of annoyance through his worry. "Someone broke into Cat's apartment."

"Someone… you mean Muirfield?"

"I don't know. I was about to make my move and they were just gone."

"Gone? Vincent, you move faster than any human alive. Who could disappear on you like that?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

"Well," JT started, choosing his words carefully. "You have been a little preoccupied lately… with Catherine. Maybe you were so worried about her that you didn't hear him leave."

"What? JT, that doesn't even make sense. I'm not wrong; I know what I heard."

"All right, all right. Well then, maybe he hid in a closet until you were out of the room. Any human can climb down the fire escape."

"Catherine and I searched that entire apartment."

"You had to have missed him. I mean, what other explanation is there? It's not like he disappeared into thin air."

Vincent sat in silence, his mind going in circles. JT was right, there was no other explanation. But something about it just felt so odd. There was no way he was leaving Catherine alone tonight.

"You know, why don't you get some sleep," JT suggested, picking up his book again, but looking far from calm. "Maybe this will clear up after you've had some rest."

"Yeah, maybe."

Vincent climbed the stairs and fell into bed, barely taking the time to remove his jacket. He was exhausted, but his mind just wouldn't rest. Someone had been in Catherine's apartment. They had a key.

And they could be watching her right now.

~BATB~

Catherine couldn't take her eyes off the empty autopsy table before her. The CIA had come so fast to collect the body, they'd barely had time to sort through all the evidence. Not that there was much. Random fish had eaten through most of his clothes. There was only a single key in his pocket and a cell phone that was ruined.

But she was terrified they'd missed something; something Muirfield could use to find Vincent. He'd told her not to worry, that they'd deal with it when the time came, but how could she not now that she knew what they could do?

"Cat," Tess called, running into the room. "We just got a call about a body in an alley. Joe wants us over there now."

"Right."

Catherine hustled to her car, forcing herself to focus on the crime at hand.

"It's a man, early thirties," Tess rattled off. "They said he was Caucasian with blond hair and a medium build."

"A thirty year old man killed in an alley? Did they say if he looked like a drug dealer or a criminal type?"

"Didn't say. That was all the brief we got."

The alley in question was already crawling with bystanders hoping to catch a glimpse. Yellow tap blocked the actual crime scene and about a dozen cops stood awaiting their arrival. As Catherine approached the victim, she couldn't help the feel of a knife piercing her heart.

He looked completely innocent, like he probably had a wife and kid waiting at home for him. The first thing she noted was his empty wallet lying by his head. All this for a mugging… awful.

There was a loud thud from the building behind her and Catherine spun around, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary.

"You think there might be a witness in there," Tess wondered aloud.

"I think it's worth checking out."

The building was in the back of a pawn shop, but the back door was open, something Catherine found suspicious. She pulled her gun, checking to make sure Tess did the same, and continued through the dark room. Random record players and televisions littered the shelves that were nearly floor to ceiling.

"NYPD. Anyone in here," Tess called, peering around a shelf. "Should we split up?"

"Sure, we'll cover more ground." Another thud sounded from somewhere in the labyrinth of shelves.

"This is NYPD. We just have some questions," Tess yelled, moving away from Catherine towards the right side of the storage room.

Catherine had her ears strained, listening for any sign of footsteps or deep breathing, but all was quiet. And then she heard a muffled thump and Tess groaned.

"Tess, you okay? What was that," she asked, but received no response.

Her gun was aimed in front of her as she made her way back to her partner, eyes roaming every aisle. Finally, she saw the slumped figure of Tess lying crumpled on the ground, unconscious.

"Tess."

She bent down beside her, just long enough to check her pulse… and then a stinging pain punctured her neck.

She just had time to register that the source of the pain was a needle when she collapsed to the ground, a gray haired man the last thing she saw.

**A/N:** Dun Dun Dun! Please, please, let me know what you think!


	3. The Hunter

**A/N: ** I am in awe of the amazing response this fic has received. Thank you so much for everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and followed! This chapter is a little shorter than the others and I'd like to apologize for that. But I promise the Vincent/Catherine interaction in later chapters will hopefully make up for it. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: The Hunter

It was much earlier than he'd planned on arriving, but he found he just couldn't stay away. And it wasn't just because Catherine might be in danger. There was something about her that just drew him in.

Vincent leaped up the fire escape, taking care to note that no one was outside, and peered in her bedroom window. The room was empty, of course it was. It was barely supper time. She probably wasn't even home yet. He tried to open the window, but realized it was locked. Good. She needed to be more careful.

But that left him with the problem of getting in. He could always just stay out there until she got home, but it was risky during the daytime. Maybe there was another window open or…

A familiar sound reached his sensitive ears, a key turning a lock. He became rigid on the fire escape, listening to the door swinging open and a pair of small feet entering the living room.

"Cat, you here," Heather called, and Vincent released the air imprisoned in his lungs. "I thought we were having dinner together. Did you forget? Cat?"

She'd missed dinner with her sister? That wasn't like her. If a case had held her up, she would have at least called, wouldn't she? JT's voice somewhere in the back of his mind told him that he was overreacting, but it just felt odd.

Heather moved through the apartment, realizing that her sister was not there and Vincent's worry escalated when she dialed Catherine's number, only for it to ring and go to voicemail.

He had to flatten himself against the brick as Heather entered Catherine's room and started rummaging around in her desk. He didn't know what she'd been looking for, but she was dialing a new number now and as he listened, he heard the voice of Catherine's boss.

"Joe Bishop speaking."

"Joe, this is Heather. I–"

"Heather… I'm glad you called. Things have been so crazy that… well, we haven't had a chance to. I'd hoped to have better news by now, but…"

"Joe, what is it?" Heather's voice was shaking and Vincent was certain his heart had stopped.

"There was an incident at a crime scene. Tess and Catherine had entered a building in search of witnesses and they were attacked. Tess is fine, but… someone took Catherine."

"T-took her? What do you mean took her?!"

Vincent could feel the beast fighting to break free and struggled to stay in his right mind.

"The cops outside heard a struggle and by the time they got in there, Cat was gone."

Vincent couldn't bear to stand there any longer. He jumped from the fire escape, landing in the alley without checking to make sure it was empty and had his phone to his ear as he ran, praying to hear Catherine's voice on the other end. He fully expected it to go to voicemail like it did for Heather, but was surprised to hear someone answer.

Someone who was definitely _not_ Catherine.

~BATB~

Catherine woke up with her head pounding and the sense of déjà vu was nearly overwhelming. Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, the bright lights burned her retinas, but she forced them open regardless, praying the next thing they landed on wouldn't be Vincent's dead body.

The first thing she noticed was that this warehouse was not Vincent's, but the one Silverfox had brought her to. And standing in the far corner was Silverfox himself!

"You. You're dead," she croaked out, forcing herself into a sitting position.

"Am I," he asked, but the voice was all wrong.

"You're… you're not him."

Sure enough, as the man stepped out into the light, his features were distinguishably different and as she watched, he took a white cloth and began wiping away the make-up on his face, revealing a much younger one on the other side.

"It's amazing what some make-up and hair dye can do," he explained, tossing the rag aside.

"But… why would you…"

"Why would I imitate a CIA agent? Just to see your reaction; which, by the way, was exactly what I was hoping for. You're fear told me that you'd certainly had an encounter with him before his death."

"Death? You mean… you know he's–"

"Dead; yes. The agent you found was the only one we missed. The others have been rounded up, along with Silverfox. Now, I know he questioned you about Vincent and if the damage done to his body is any indication, he found him."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't start with the dumb act. We both know you're hiding him. But what _you_ don't know is that I'm not a direct agent with the CIA. I'm more of an independent contractor they hire for… special cases. Muirfield hired me to bring in Vincent Keller, dead or alive, and they've given me permission to use any means necessary. And those means can include killing you."

"Oooh, scary," Catherine mocked, hoping the fear she felt didn't come through in her voice.

"You think I'm bluffing?"

She didn't answer, just prayed that she was worth more alive than dead. But no matter what he did to her, she would never give up Vincent. She couldn't.

"Why don't we get started then? Maybe a demonstration is in order."

She only had time to register the sight of him standing menacingly over her before his fist connected with her temple, leaving it throbbing in response. Raising a shaking hand to her head, she felt the warm blood gathering on the wound.

"I can literally hit you all day if you like, and I have plenty of other interesting tools at my disposal. Or you can just cut to the chase."

"Screw you!"

He laughed and moved over to retrieve a duffel bag from which he pulled numerous steel weapons, all terrifying in their own right. One in particular, a crowbar, he balanced nimbly in his hand. All this was made more terrifying by the fact that the drugs in her system made her too weak to fight back.

"Now, I want you to tell me where Vincent is," he ordered.

Catherine said nothing, mostly out of fear that her voice would shake. Instead of anger, a cruel smile lit up his face and he swung the crowbar down on her left arm.

She couldn't stop the howl of pain as it left her mouth. At least one bone in her arm was broken and all she could do was clutch it to her.

"Would you like to re-think your answer to that question," the man asked, swinging the crowbar menacingly.

But just as he looked ready to swing again, a familiar ringing echoed off the warehouse walls.

"That's my phone," she choked out, still gritting her teeth in pain.

"You thought I was going to leave that with you?"

He pulled it from his pocket and stared curiously at the name on the caller id.

"Heather? That would be your sister, right?"

Catherine's entire face went white as she waited with baited breath for his reaction.

"Don't worry. I have no reason to bring her into this. But the fact that she's calling you means she's worried about you. How long do you think it will be before Vincent starts to wonder where you are?"

Again, she kept silent. Vincent said he would come by her apartment tonight and she only hoped that he hadn't shown up yet. And what if he called? She knew there was nothing in this world that would stop Vincent from coming to help her if he knew she was in danger.

Thankfully, he let the phone ring and returned it to his pocket.

"What was that look on your face a second ago? It wasn't just fear that I'd answer the phone and worry your sister," he pondered, kneeling down until he was on eye level with her.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do. Vincent has your number, doesn't he? You were afraid that was him calling you. And he'd do anything to save you; even if it meant walking into a trap."

He pulled her cell from his pocket again, scrolling through the recent calls list.

"He could be any one of these nameless numbers." He turned his gaze back to her face, studying it as if deciphering an answer. "Your silence is all the confirmation I need. Now, I could go through and call every single one of these until I get him… or I could just wait until he calls. But I think we can speed things up a bit."

He laid down the crowbar, but returned to his duffel bag, retrieving a small but sharp knife.

"Now, I find people are more easily manipulated when they know for a fact they could die." He brought the knife up where she could get a good, horrifying look at it.

And then, he plunged it into her abdomen.

The pain was blinding. It was all she could think about. Every nerve ending in her body wanted to scream out in pain, but the shock took her breath away. He pulled the knife back out, intensifying the agony and Catherine hesitantly turned her gaze to her blood soaked shirt.

"If you tell me where Vincent is, I'll put pressure on your wound, halt the blood flow, and call 911… saving your life. If not, I'll let you bleed to death. I was careful not to injure any major organs, which means the process of dying could take a while."

Between the pain and the fear, she was shaking. She attempted to bring her hand to the wound, but she was too weak to apply the needed pressure.

"Catherine, do you want me to save your life or not?"

It took every ounce of self-control to keep from screaming her head off and look him in the eye, but as Vincent's face flashed across her mind, she found her resolve.

"I'll never… tell y… you… anything." Her breathing was coming fast and shallow in wake of the pain, but she held her ground.

Rage built up in his eyes, but he pulled himself together, standing up and dropping the dagger back into his bag. For a second, she felt a wave of triumph… and then the phone rang.

Fear momentarily overtook pain as his face lit up in a smile.

"Vincent, I presume," he answered, confirming her worst fears. She desperately wished she could hear Vincent's voice on the other end, just once more before she died.

"I have her right here, though she's not looking too good at the moment… you'll do what? If you want to come find her, just come to the place you killed my fellow agents. We'll be waiting."

He hung up the phone, pocketing it with a smile.

"You should be happy, if I kill him before you die, you get to live."

With that, he moved towards the door, peering out to the empty lot. The next ten minutes were pure agony. Catherine tried in vain to stop the blood flow, but her muscles were still so weak. The best she could do was try not to move, hoping that by staying still she could keep the blood in her body just a little longer.

Finally, the sound she both feared and longed for met her ears.

"Catherine," Vincent called, and her torturer stepped outside.

She had to get to him, to warn him! Drawing up every ounce of strength left within her, she crawled to the wall and hoisted herself up on her knees. The wave of dizziness from the pain nearly made her pass out.

And then she realized she was not alone.

A man with short, dark hair and electric green eyes was standing before her, half hidden in the shadows. He didn't say a word, just tossed something small and black to her feet. Looking down she recognized her gun.

She wanted to beg for his help, but when she looked back up… he was gone.

~BATB~

Vincent stepped cautiously into the empty lot by the warehouse, listening for any sign of Catherine or her captor. He could feel the monster roaring inside him as the sound of shallow, pain-filled breaths reached his ears. And then he heard the sound of footsteps echoing behind him.

"I told you to stay behind," Vincent whispered to JT who ran up beside him with his bat.

"Like I'm gonna sit at home and let you give yourself up. Besides, you're not the only one who cares about her."

"Fine, but stay behind me." Vincent looked up at the seemingly abandoned warehouse and decided it was best to get the confrontation over with. "Catherine!"

He waited. At first, nothing happened, and then a nondescript looking man stepped out from one of the many bay doors on the warehouse.

"That didn't take long," he drawled.

"Where's Catherine?!"

"Oh, she's inside – bleeding to death."

A true roar escaped Vincent's throat and he prepared to charge, but the man simply pulled a tiny black device from his pocket and JT gripped Vincent's arm, wrenching him back in his surprise.

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is," JT muttered, eyes wide.

"You mean the detonator for an explosive device? That's exactly what it is," the man quipped. "And any attempt to attack me, I'll push this button and your precious Catherine will fit in a matchbox."

Vincent's anger and fear were now equally strong and he racked his brain for any way around this. No matter what, he couldn't make a decision that would harm Catherine. And he'd said something about bleeding to death. She was hurt! There wasn't much time.

"What do you want," Vincent growled, feeling his face changing.

"I'm supposed to bring you back, dead or alive. Personally, I prefer dead. I'm not keen on my chances when you're angry."

"Release her and you can do whatever you want with me. Just let her go."

"Or, you can stand still while I shoot you and not get her blown up."

Vincent glared at his opponent. In truth, it would take a lot more than one bullet to kill him and if he faked it, maybe JT could slip in and get Catherine out. But what he was struck in the head? Depending on the bullet, it could pierce his skull and even he wasn't strong enough to survive a gunshot to the brain.

But Catherine was in trouble!

"Fine. But once I'm dead, you let my friend inside to get her. You don't harm either of them!"

"Vincent, you don't really think he'll honor that," JT piped up.

But the man just smirked. "Hey, I'm only getting paid for you."

"Are you insane?! You can't let him shoot you," JT protested, but Vincent shoved him out of the way, standing perfectly still and gritting his teeth in anticipation of the bullet.

A shot rang through the air, but Vincent felt no pain.

Instead, the man fell to the ground and the tiny, black device controlling the explosives fell harmlessly from his hand.

At first, he was too confused to register anything but that his opponent was dead. And then he saw Catherine standing at the door, her gun shaking in her hand. He was so relieved that he started to rush to her, but then he noticed how pale she was… and the bright red blood seeping through her shirt.

And then she fell.

**A/N:** Just in case you missed it, the words, "Are you the guy who's been creeping into my apartment," were never mentioned. Do you think he was it, or is there another intruder watching them all? Let me know what you think!


	4. Safe in Your Arms

**A/N: **For any new readers out there, I just want to explain the timeline. This story was started after episode 4, _Basic Instinct_, before we met JT's love interest, Sarah. I already had a lot of ideas where he was concerned that contradict episode 5, so I hope it doesn't take away from the story. Thanks to all who read and reviewed! You made my day!

Chapter 4: Safe in Your Arms

Catherine had lost sense of what was dream and what was reality. Her every memory was a blur of faces, each in different states of shock and sadness. She remembered her dad and Heather, who had been crying. Then there was Tess, Evan, and Joe. But the face that surfaced the most was Vincent's.

She had a distinct memory, or was it a dream, of him looming above her with a look of pure terror on his face. He kept repeating the words, "Don't leave me," as he worked over her, though she wasn't exactly sure what he was doing.

Every so often, JT flitted into the scene, comforting his friend. Why was everyone so sad? Had something happened to her? That part of the memory she couldn't pull forth, but as the dream world slowly began to fade, she started registering odd sounds. The first was a strange beeping noise coming from close beside her head. The second, the sound of someone breathing, someone in a deep sleep.

Her eyelids felt heavy, but they opened willingly enough to a nondescript, white room. She knew instantly that she was in the hospital and as she swiveled her head sideways, she saw her sister Heather asleep in a bedside chair.

How had she come to be here? Searching for answers, she attempted to sit up, but a pain in her abdomen nearly made her cry out.

"Don't do that," a quiet voice urged, and all her anxiety started slipping away as her eyes landed on the owner of that familiar voice.

"Vincent," she croaked out, though her voice was so low she wasn't sure he could hear it. Then again, he could hear everything.

"You shouldn't be moving. Just stay still. Are you in pain?"

She thought through his question, but as long as she wasn't moving, she felt pretty good.

"No."

A heavy sigh escaped his throat and he reclined back against the wall, keeping his distance from her bed. Remembering that they were not alone in the room, her gaze found Heather again, but she was still breathing deeply.

"Don't worry; she's exhausted. The fire alarm probably wouldn't wake her up," Vincent assured her.

"What happened?"

At her question, he tensed up, clearly struggling with the words to explain it.

"You were taken… a guy from Muirfield."

But this was wrong. "Not from Muirfield. They hired him," she explained as the little nugget of memory came back to her. With it, a duffel bag and small knife also crept in, causing her to shudder.

"You shot him… but he stabbed you–"

"With a knife. I remember. How did you get me here?"

"JT called 911. I stayed until I knew you were stable." There was an ancient sadness to his voice that broke her heart. More than anything, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and assure him she was fine, but she was clearly in no position to do that.

"He was looking for you. He said… said they had the other bodies… Silverfox." The pain was starting to register with her, making it hard to talk, but she wanted to tell him everything. "They know you're here, Vincent. That man was… was just a bounty hunter, or… something."

"Stop talking. Just rest. You can tell me this later," he urged, moving to rest his hand on the side of her face. The contact was instantly soothing and she nearly fell asleep again.

But then she remembered something else.

"There… there was someone else. A man with dark hair. He… he tossed me my… gun."

"I said stop talking. Do you want me to call the nurse in here to sedate you?"

"Vincent–"

"I'm serious. It can wait. Just sleep."

He began smoothing back her hair and his other hand took hers and she was asleep before she could argue.

~BATB~

JT sat behind his desk in his closet sized office at the university, contemplating his coffee more than actually drinking it. Vincent couldn't see past his relief that Catherine was okay to see the danger they were really in. Not that he wasn't equally relieved. He had to admit, the woman was growing on him.

But they'd really exposed themselves yesterday. If any Muirfield agents had seen what had just went down, they'd know that Vincent and JT were still friends, which meant the warehouse where he lived would be the first place they'd look. This theory was even more imposing given the information Catherine had given Vincent late last night about some man being in the warehouse with her and sliding her the gun.

Surely no one from Muirfield would have done that. But who was he? They really did _not_ need another wild card!

"Um, excuse me," a soft voice called from the door and he looked up into the most beautiful brown eyes he'd ever seen.

"Y-yes… is there something I can help you with?" He stood from his desk and almost knocked over his chair, causing the young woman before him to stifle a laugh.

"My name is Heather Chandler. You saved my sister last night."

"Oh, Heather. Yes… uh, she's okay, right?"

"She's doing great. But she wouldn't be alive if not for you. I just wanted to come by and thank you. What you did… I can't begin to describe how much it means to me."

Heather's eyes welled with tears and in a moment of intense emotion, she strode forward and hugged him, causing JT's pulse to race uncontrollably. He was so shocked, he almost forgot to raise his arms and hug her back.

"It was nothing, really," he mumbled.

"It was not nothing," she exclaimed, pulling back and wiping a tear from her eye. "You saved my sister. But, why were you there? It seems like an odd place to just be passing through."

Now he actually needed his brain to function and he closed his eyes to reorganize his thoughts.

"I… Catherine called me," he blurted out, hoping this wasn't too far-fetched. He hadn't actually told the cops that, but maybe he could send a message to Catherine before anyone questioned her.

"Oh, so you're a friend of Cat's?"

"Yeah, sort of. Guess she never mentioned me." He let a nervous chuckle creep in and was happy to see her smile back.

"She doesn't talk about much besides work. But I'm glad she has friends out there. So… what do you teach?"

"Biochem. It's fascinating… you know, if you're into that stuff."

"Science was never my thing. It just turns into a jumbled mess inside my head."

JT was struggling to focus on the words coming from her mouth, but he was preoccupied with the adorable dimples in her cheeks when she smiled and the way her hand kept traveling up to fiddle with her hair. As a result, his only response was to smile like an idiot, which he mentally kicked himself for.

He was just racking his brain for some other topic of conversation, anything to keep her there, when her phone rang.

"Oh, sorry about that. It's just my boyfriend."

Boyfriend? And just like that, his heart plummeted.

"Hey Josh," Heather answered. "Can I call you back? Ok, bye." She shoved the phone back in her pants pocket. "I have to go, but again… thank you."

"Yeah, anytime." She was turning to leave and in a moment of urgency, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Hey, if you ever need anything, or you know, want a tour of the college, just call me up."

Her answering smile was adorable and she waved before sweeping from the room. For the first time in ten years, JT completely forgot Muirfield existed.

~BATB~

"Can you drive any faster," Catherine complained, watching Evan take a turn at an infuriatingly slow pace.

"I'm trying not to jar your insides. Do you want to rip your stitches?"

"What I want is to make it home and have a proper shower."

"You smell quite nice to me." Evan gave her that sultry look that always managed to start her heart racing. Though any thought of Vincent and Evan disappeared completely.

"I just hate hospitals." She'd been elated when they told her she could go home that night, only twenty-four hours since she'd been admitted. Of course, Evan was coming by regularly to check her stitches and ensure she was taking her pain medicine, but better that in her own home than some hard, impersonal hospital bed. That was the second good news of the day; the first had been finding out that her arm wasn't as bad as she'd thought. She'd managed to escape with just a brace instead of a full on cast.

"Ah, look at that," Evan pointed out. "Your apartment building. And we made it here without doing a hundred on the freeway. Imagine that."

"Oh, shut up."

Finding a good spot in the parking garage was surprisingly easy, but climbing the stairs to her apartment was another matter. Even with Evan, Heather, and her dad there to help her, it was unimaginably painful. But Evan, chivalrous as always, finally opted to carry her up the stairs.

"Home sweet home," Heather chanted as they cleared the threshold and Evan laid her gingerly on the couch.

Now that she was home, there were only two things she wanted to do; sleep and call Vincent. She hadn't seen him since last night… or was it early this morning. She just needed to hear his voice; needed that reassurance that everything was okay. It was odd; she hadn't needed that kind of thing since her mom's death.

"So, do you need anything," her dad asked, kneeling beside the couch and taking her hand in his.

"No, I'm good. I think I'll just sleep right here… on the couch."

"Okay. Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

"No, Dad, I'll be fine. Besides, Heather's here."

"That's right," Heather piped up. "I will be your nurse for the night."

"See, I'm all taken care of."

Her dad bent down to drop a kiss on her forehead. "Well then, just get some rest and call me in the morning."

"Will do."

As her dad's hand left hers, she noticed something… something she hadn't seen since she was a kid.

"That ring. You haven't worn it in a while," she stated, her voice quiet.

"What? Oh, this? It's just some old college thing. I stopped wearing it when your mom… Well, I just found it."

"Oh." But it was more than that. It was an exact match to the ring Vincent had taken off of Silverfox's hand. Same thick gold band, same double V set in the green stone.

"What do the letters mean."

"Uh… you know, I can't remember now. It's been so long ago. Why don't you just get some sleep, give that detective's brain a rest."

She couldn't help but notice the nervous rise to his voice and the way he refused to make eye contact with her. Not that she wanted to believe it, but her dad was hiding something. Could he possibly know anything about Muirfield?

"Call me if you need anything," her dad explained to Heather before striding out the door.

"I'd be more than happy to stay the night," Evan offered, taking a seat in a chair. "You might need someone to keep you warm."

"Thanks, but I have blankets," she jibbed, trying to hide the nervous tremble in her voice with humor.

It was a complicated act to keep up, but she managed it until Evan left and Heather finally went off to bed. Catherine couldn't imagine the pain of moving to her own room and decided to simply sleep on the couch.

But just as she was about to drift off, the near silent shuffle of feet alerted her to another presence in the room.

"You should really start locking your windows," Vincent complained, coming to sit on the coffee table opposite the sofa.

"Now, how could you continue stalking me if I did that?"

Vincent chuckled, but concern was evident in his eyes, which kept straying to her abdomen.

"This might be a little delayed, but… you were amazing," he exclaimed, smiling in such a way that her heart gave a little flip.

"I nearly bleed to death and passed out. How was that amazing?"

"I was coming to save your life and you ended up saving mine. _That_ is amazing."

Catherine felt a coy little smile creep on her face. "Well, I'm expecting repayment."

"Oh really. And just what did you have in mind?" Did he realize how close he was leaning into her right now? Their faces were so close. He smiled as she hesitated to answer – or maybe he'd just noticed how fast her heart was racing.

"I was thinking something with chocolate," she finally responded.

"I'll see what I can do."

Having him here watching over her made her feel safe and protected and soon she felt her eyelids start to droop.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be keeping you awake," Vincent apologized.

"No, don't leave," she begged, and before she realized what she was doing, she'd reached out and gripped his arm.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I… I don't want you to go."

"Alright." He reached up and pushed her hair out of her face, studying her eyes. She hoped he didn't find the emotions she was trying very hard to hide. "You should still sleep."

His fingers were still running through her hair. "Hmm, keep doing that and I'll be out in no time."

The blush was back on his cheeks and per her request, he continued weaving through her hair, causing her breathing to deepen. She knew she'd been worried about something before he'd shown up… something to do with her father, but right now she had no idea what it was.

"Why would you die for me," he asked, so quietly she wasn't sure he'd spoken at all.

"What kind of question is that?"

"I just… the things I've done… I don't deserve to have someone give their life up for me."

She forced her eyes fully open now, searching his face. "You don't see yourself very clearly. You're a good person… more than that, you're a great man. What you've done… you didn't have control over that. The fact that you want to do what's right, that you hate yourself for the wrong, that proves you're not a monster, no matter what you look like when you get angry."

"So, you saved me because I'm a good man?" There was more to that question, but she wasn't sure she was ready to delve into that area of their relationship yet, mostly because she didn't fully understand it herself.

"I was willing to die to protect you because… I care about you. I care about you too much to let anything happen to you."

He wasn't fully pacified, but the smile was back in his eyes.

"While we're on the subject, why are you always so intent on protecting me," she pushed, interested in seeing the way his breathing hitched.

"Because… I care about you too. I couldn't live with myself if anything ever happened to you."

His eyes burned into hers, scorching her from the inside out and as tiny specks of light flitted across her vision, she realized she'd forgotten to breath. She inhaled, breaking the highly tense moment, but also pulling on her stitches.

"The couch probably isn't the best place to sleep when you're recovering from a knife wound," Vincent suggested.

"But the bed's so far away."

Vincent stood and without warning, slid his arms up under her body, gently lifting her off the couch. She didn't protest; being in his arms felt unbelievably good. She laid her head over on his shoulder, breathing in the scent that was purely him.

When he laid her down on her bed, careful not to jostle her, she regretted the loss of the warmth of his body. Closing her eyes, she felt him slid the covers up over her and then the shift of the bed as he settled in next to her.

She knew she _should_ protest to this, but he just made her feel so safe. His hand when back to work in her hair and she drifted off to the most peaceful sleep she'd had in months.

**A/N:** This was a little fluffy. The next few chapters will mostly be dedicated to their relationship, but the danger is always waiting in the wings. Leave a review and let me know your thoughts and thanks for reading! It's most appreciated.


	5. The Thief and the Liar

**A/N:** I almost didn't think I'd get this up. We just bought a house and are currently in the process of moving, meaning I have almost no time at the computer, but I managed to squeeze in a few minutes here and there. Thanks to all the loyal readers out there!

Chapter 5: The Thief and the Liar

It was the most restful night she'd ever had, mostly due to the fact that she'd spent it wrapped in Vincent's arms. Eventually that morning, before Heather had came to check on her, she'd told Vincent about her dad's ring. His answer didn't surprise her; he'd simply told her not to worry about it for now. That was easier said than done, especially since she had nothing to do all day but lie around and watch TV.

To her horror, Heather took three days off work to take care of her. Not that she wasn't appreciative, but she hated being coddled. Evan and Tess stopped by most afternoons and then there was Vincent, who came by every night to check up on her.

She wasn't as annoyed with his worry as she was the others. He would sit on her windowsill and they'd talk in low voices until she finally drifted off to sleep. She had a sneaking suspicion that he spent most of the day on her roof or out on her fire escape. Mostly due to the phone call she'd received from JT one morning asking why Vincent had never came home.

She knew it was for her own protection, but it made her feel so weak and helpless, which was something she'd decided to never feel again after her mother's murder.

Needless to say, that first week on bed rest was both irritating and welcoming, but as the second week dawned, she finally found she could move around more on her own. With the pain medicine in her system, she was more than capable of taking care of herself and she reveled in the silence when Heather finally left for work that morning.

The only problem with the start to her day was that her favorite shirt was missing. It had been a t-shirt from their family trip to Disneyworld two years after her mom's death; her dad's way of moving on. Although there had been a lot of pain to fight through, it had brought the three of them closer together.

But the memory only made the loss of the shirt more annoying. It was her favorite shirt to just lie around in and all that searching was starting to make the wound in her abdomen really sore. Finally choosing a shirt at random, she moved to the kitchen in search of coffee.

But opening her cabinet, she noticed the next odd thing. Her favorite coffee mug was gone. It was a hand-painted, deep blue mug with rain drops running down in intricate patterns. She was sure she'd washed it and put it back just last night.

Maybe the meds had her more out of it than she thought.

"Catherine," Vincent called suddenly, causing her to jump. She wasn't expecting him until the sun went down.

"You're here early," she called, but before she could turn, Vincent was suddenly spinning her around to face him, his eyes wide. "What's wrong?"

"Are you okay," he asked, eyes surveying her body.

"I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Someone's been here," he explained, still checking her over. He seemed satisfied that she hadn't been harmed.

"Yeah, a lot of people. They've been visiting me all week."

"No, it's none of them. This scent… I've smelled it before. It's the same guy that was in your room that night and I smelled him at the warehouse."

At first, Catherine's voice refused to work, but finally she was able to respond with the first question that popped into her head.

"You could smell him?"

"Super senses, remember. I'm gonna check the rest of the house."

He released her and disappeared in a flash. She could hear the random sounds of doors opening and closing, but her head was still reeling from his news.

"Someone was here last night… while I was asleep," she mumbled to herself.

"There's no one here," Vincent confirmed as he rejoined her in the kitchen. "I knew I shouldn't have left last night."

"No… wait," Catherine started, pulling herself out of the fog of confusion. "The guy that broke in that night… that was the same guy that grabbed me; the one I killed. It has to be."

"Well, it's not! I know I'm not wrong. It's the same guy and he knows where I live too."

"Maybe not. Maybe he's just been following me and found out I spend time there. It could have nothing to do with you." The words were just uttered to make him calm down, as his hands were shaking uncontrollably, but she knew they were too far-fetched to be true.

"That would be the biggest coincidence in history."

Catherine took a deep breath and slumped against the sink, her wound throbbing.

"Well, whoever it is, he didn't do anything. I'm fine, nothings miss…" She broke off mid-sentence as she re-thought her day. "My shirt… the coffee cup…"

"What is it?"

"It's probably nothing. I'm sure I just forgot where I put them… but… one of my shirts is missing and so is my favorite coffee mug. But that doesn't make sense, why would anyone steal something like that?"

From the look on Vincent's face, he was thinking the same thing. And then his gaze traveled down to her stomach where her hand had unconsciously strayed.

"You're hurting," he stated. "I shouldn't have scared you like that. I'm sorry."

"Vincent, I'm not some delicate flower. You don't have to apologize. Besides, you used to think scaring me was funny."

"I did not," he protested, but his smile marred the lie. "Okay, maybe a little."

"So, what do you want to do? I can call my boss, tell him I think someone broke into my apartment. But that might lead back to you, especially if this guy was from Muirfield."

"Yeah, we shouldn't bring your co-workers into this any more than we have to. I'll just… start staying all night long. And, possibly all day."

"No, you're not. You need sleep."

He was about to argue, but she brought her fingers up to his mouth. "Don't. I can defend myself. Besides, if it is a guy from Muirfield, we can't let him see you."

"So, what, you expect me to just stay away?"

"That's not what I said. But I don't need a bodyguard here around the clock."

This time, he only sighed, but remained silent. She had a feeling he'd be camping out on her roof from now on.

~BATB~

JT slammed another drawer shut in his desk, yanking open the next one. He was sure he'd put the weekly reading guide somewhere… but where. It wasn't in his desk or his books or…

He had yet to try his briefcase and sure enough, there it was. He rolled his eyes at himself and was just gathering his things for the first class of the day when someone knocked on his door.

"Come in," he shouted without looking up.

"Mr. Forbes," a man asked, and when JT raised his head, he saw two men in suits eyeing him curiously.

"Uh, yes. That's me," he answered, fear rising in his chest. Men in suits always meant something bad.

"My name is Mr. Mosely and this is Mr. Shane. We work for the CIA and we'd like to ask you a few questions." The man flashed his badge, but didn't seem alarming. At least he came right out and told the truth.

"Questions? What questions?"

"A New York police detective was assaulted a little over a week ago and I believe you were the man that called 911. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"Did you know the detective?"

"Not well. We met during one of her cases, but that was it."

"And, this case in question… were you a suspect?"

"I don't know. She just asked me some questions about some murder and then she left."

"Our records show that she went so far as to get a warrant to search the warehouse you're currently living at. Was there a reason for that?"

"S-she thought I knew the victim, I think. I didn't. She proved that."

"You sure she wasn't there because of a past friend. I believe you do know this man." Mr. Mosely pulled out a photo and handed it to JT. It was a ten-year younger Vincent, clean-cut and ready for the army.

"Um, I did. He died in Afghanistan."

"That is the working theory."

"Theory? What do you mean, theory?"

"Nothing, nothing. Thank you for your time, Mr. Forbes."

The two men left his office without so much as a backwards glance. JT didn't think twice, simply bolted from the school, barely remembering to text his students and cancel class in his haste.

~BATB~

Having a round the clock body guard wasn't turning out to be as bad as she thought. Vincent had stayed for breakfast and they'd been sitting on the couch talking for the last hour. It was just so easy to forget the rest of the world existed when he was there.

But they're time together was cut short by someone knocking frantically on her door.

"It's me. Open the door," JT demanded, and Vincent was across the room before Catherine could lean forward on the couch.

"You okay," Vincent asked as a winded JT strode into the room, tossing a heavy duffel bag on the floor.

"We have a serious problem," JT began.

Catherine felt her heart drop into her stomach. "What now?"

"Two guys from the CIA just stopped by asking about your assault. They know that I was the one who called 911 _and_ that Vincent and I are old friends."

"What did they want to know," Vincent asked.

"They didn't really want to know anything. They were watching my reactions. That's why I brought this." He motioned to the duffel and Vincent's eyes lit up with recognition.

"That's mine."

"Everything that links you to the warehouse is there. I've been thinking about this since they left my office and if I leave with you, it will look too suspicious. My idea… is for you to hide out for a while, let them break into the warehouse and see just how wrong they are, and then you can move back in. They'll never check the same place twice."

"You want me to go hide somewhere while these CIA agents tear apart the warehouse with you in it?"

"Just for about a week or so. We could both leave, but… I think this could work. And, besides, we both know you can't leave forever, not now." JT and Vincent both glanced down at Catherine, who had gone suddenly white.

"It sounds like a good plan," she admitted.

"No, it doesn't," Vincent disagreed. "I'll stay out of the warehouse until these guys are gone, but I'm not leaving town. JT, someone broke in here last night. He had the same scent as the guy that was sneaking around the warehouse. I'm not leaving Catherine alone until I find out who he is."

"Vincent, you can't stay," Catherine protested. "Those agents were asking JT about me too. You're not safe here."

"I'm not leaving you."

"I can protect myself!"

Vincent scoffed and his eyes traveled down to her stomach. "You're recovering from a stab wound! You're in no shape to fight anybody!"

"You have to do something," JT reasoned.

"You expect me to go on a vacation for a week and forget that both of you are in danger," Vincent fired back, but his words sparked one of Catherine's memories.

"I have an idea," she interrupted. "What if I leave with you?"

"That sounds… stupid," JT complained, looking at her as if she were suffering from a mental condition.

"No. Vincent, remember that cabin I was telling you about, the one my family owns in the mountains? We can hide out there for a week. I'll be with you, so you can keep an eye on me and still be safe."

Vincent sat back down on the couch beside her, thinking it through.

"I take it back. It doesn't suck," JT allowed.

"What about your sister," Vincent asked, watching Catherine's face carefully.

"I'll ask her to have her boyfriend stay here with her. The only reason she hasn't asked him yet is because she knows it would be awkward for me. She'd love to take advantage of the situation."

Vincent's face turned to JT. "And you?"

"I'll spend most of my time on campus. Once they see that I haven't been hiding you in the warehouse, I'll be safe."

Vincent studied them both for another minute, then finally nodded. "Okay, when do we leave?"

"As soon as possible," JT suggested.

"I'll call Heather; explain I just want some time alone to think. And I'll have to pack."

She heaved herself off the couch, noting that although she'd been lying around all morning, the medicine still made her drowsy. But the thought of spending a whole week alone with Vincent brought on an entirely different feeling in her stomach and excitement was quickly winning out over fear.

~BATB~

Howard Chandler sat in his office, twisting the ring around and around on his finger while staring at a picture of his daughters. It was taken the day Catherine had graduated from college. Her future had seemed so bright. How was it possible that it was the same girl who was now mixed up with a dangerous man?

His eyes strayed back to the ring, at the double V in particular. Catherine had seemed scared when she'd noticed it. Is that what Silverfox had been busy doing? His secret mission? Had he really been following Catherine, assuming she'd lead him to Vincent?

That was the thing about his daughter, she was loyal and trustworthy… and it would get her in trouble one day. He just hoped he could get her back out of it in time.

"Mr. Chandler, there's a young woman here to see you. She says she's your daughter," chirped the telephone lying to his left.

"Send her in."

He double checked his desk, making sure there was nothing that wouldn't normally be in a lawyer's office and placed a bright smile on his face.

"Hey Daddy," Heather greeted.

"This is a surprise. What brings you here?"

"Well… it's Cat."

"Cat? Is she okay?"

"I guess. Has she called you," Heather asked, taking one of the seats across the desk.

"No, she hasn't."

Heather took a deep breath, staring nervously around his office, before finally explaining the situation. "She wants to go to the mountain house; said she needs some alone time to think or something."

"The mountain house? She hasn't been back there since… since your mom died."

"I know. It seems weird, right? Doesn't it seem weird?"

"Well, not that weird. She just went through a terrible ordeal. It's understandable that she might need some time. I wish she'd do it a little closer to home."

"So, should I just let her go?"

Howard laughed. "Like you could stop her. I'm sure she'll be fine."

"Oh, alright then," Heather huffed and stood to leave. But something occurred to Howard then.

"You did say she was going alone?"

"That's what she told me. Not that I haven't ruled out the theory of secret boyfriend. She's been acting kind of strange lately."

Howard couldn't shake the feeling that Catherine was lying. Not that she didn't enjoy her alone time; she had ever since she'd lost her mother. But what if she wasn't just escaping her life for a week? What if she was leaving with someone who also needed an escape?

"You're not worried about her sneaking off with some guy, are you," Heather asked, watching her dad's guilty face with amusement. "Number one, we both know that's more me than her. And number two… it's no secret that her V-train left the station a long time ago."

Howard rolled his eyes. "Thank you for that disturbing line of thought. But a dad never stops worrying about his daughters. Speaking of, I take it Josh is staying with you?"

Now Heather blushed, refusing to meet his gaze. "He is. Just for protection, you know."

"Oh, of course. Just make sure he knows that I have the power to lock him up for years if he ever hurts you."

"I will pass it along."

Now she was almost running to make it out of his door and had to double back to give him a kiss on the cheek. But as the door swung closed behind her, the smile on his face faded.

Whether or not Catherine was up to something, Muirfield needed to check it out. But he needed someone he could trust, someone who wouldn't harm his daughter. He eyed his phone for several minutes before lifting it out of the cradle.

"Darnett, this is Agent Chandler. I have a job for you."

**A/N:** I loved Thursday's episode, but couldn't find anywhere in which they mentioned Mr. Chandler's first name, so I named him Howard. If I missed it, feel free to correct me.


	6. Giving In

**A/N:** I'm sorry this took so long, but we are 85% done with the moving process. I haven't been able to respond to every review, but I want to thank everyone for taking the time to read! As a Thanksgiving treat, this chapter is mostly Vincent and Catherine as they begin their "vacation." Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Giving In

The hum of the tires was soothing when surrounded by the dark night. The only other sound in the car was the deep, steady breaths of Catherine as she slept – it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

Vincent's eyes just wouldn't stay fixed on the road; every few seconds they strayed down to her peaceful face as she smiled in her sleep. Once, just once, he lost all control and reached out to touch her face. The feeling was more intense than he expected and his entire body was humming with electricity. Just from a single touch!

Making him equally excited was the realization that she had agreed to leave with him, even if it was only for a week.

She sighed in her sleep, drawing his attention back to her face. She'd driven until they were clear of the city and then he'd taken over. It was nice to be behind the wheel of a car. He barely ever had the chance to drive JT's and it wasn't like he could just go buy his own.

They were getting close now and he'd need her awake to navigate him to the cabin.

"Catherine," he whispered, running a hand down her cheek again.

She stirred, but refused to fully open her eyes.

"Catherine, we're getting close. I need to know which road to take."

Instead of answering, she turned her head towards the door and clamped her eyes shut again.

"No, you can't go back to sleep. I need your help," he chuckled, getting no response. But he could hear that her breathing wasn't as deep as before, meaning she was faking. With a mischievous twitch of his lips, he ran a finger down behind her ear, laughing as she shrieked in response.

Her eyes shot open as he tickled her and she slapped his hand away.

"That's not fair. I was having a really good dream," she complained.

"Would you rather us get lost up here? I think the road we need should be coming up, but I haven't been up here in a long time."

She gazed around, noting an old service station. "It should be the second left."

"So… what was the dream about," he asked, making sure to keep his eyes fixed on the road.

"I… I, uh, don't remember."

"Has anyone ever told you what a terrible liar you are," he asked, watching the blush color her cheeks.

"Hey, it is none of your business. Keep your eyes on the road."

"I was just wondering if it had anything to do with what you were mumbling in your sleep," he lied, just to see what reaction he would get. She actually happened to be a very quiet sleeper.

"What?! Mumbling in my sleep? What did I say?"

"You might have mentioned a name."

"Name?" She couldn't hide the nervous tremble in her voice and he had to fight to stop from laughing.

He turned his eyes towards her as if to say, "you know you were dreaming about me," and her mouth dropped open in shock.

"Look, it was just a dream. I really can't even remember–"

"Catherine, I'm kidding. You didn't say anything."

For a moment, she just glared at him, not saying a word. And then he felt her hand make contact with his arm.

"I can't believe you!"

Her indignation was so adorable, he nearly missed his turn just to watch her face. He spent the remainder of the drive guessing what her dream had actually been about while she tried – unsuccessfully – to ignore him. It was the happiest he had ever felt.

Suddenly, just as she told him the cabin should be close, he felt the road blur slightly out of focus as a stabbing pain shot across his temple. His hand shot up to grip his head and he struggled to focus on the road before him.

"Vincent, what's wrong? Are you okay," Catherine asked, and he felt her hand on the side of his face.

The feel of her skin caused the pain to recede and soon the world looked as it should again.

"Are you okay," Catherine repeated, staring at him with worry.

"I'm… I'm fine. I guess I've just been driving for too long."

"Do you want me to take over?"

"Uh… how much farther is it?"

"About eight minutes from here. Just pull over. You can rest your eyes."

Never, in the ten years since he'd been this hybrid creature, had he ever had to rest his eyes. He was in perfect physical condition. He'd never even had a cold since receiving the injection. So, what had just happened?

She drove in silence, every so often checking on him out of the corner of her eye. But by the time they reached the cabin he felt perfectly normal.

"I'll grab the bags," he offered, opening the door to step out, but her hand on his stopped him.

"Wait, are you sure you're alright?"

The feel of her hand on his distracted him and for a second, he couldn't understand her question to answer her, which probably worried her more. Finally, he shook his head to clear it.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Promise."

He had to admit it was quiet out here. The cabin was buried in trees and being winter, all the animals had nestled down. It was a nice change for his sensitive ears.

As they stepped inside, the first thing he noticed was that it was just as cold inside as it was outside. He was much more capable of holding in his body heat, allowing him to stay warm in the cold for hours, but Catherine was already shivering.

"I should probably make a fire before you turn to ice," he suggested.

"I forgot how cold it gets up here. At least nothing's changed. My mom decorated it when we were kids."

He could picture that. The place had a very cozy feel to it; the perfect mix of modern and classic décor.

Vincent set to work turning the water on and gathering firewood while Catherine checked the rooms. He could tell it frustrated her to not be able to help, but with her wound she couldn't exactly lift anything. But she did start a late supper of spaghetti in the kitchen.

"That smells great," he complimented, coming up beside her to lean against the counter.

"Yeah, it's a secret family recipe."

"Really? So, you know the people at Ragu?"

"Oh yeah, old family friends. We go back generations," she laughed.

He searched the cabinets, finding the plates and rinsing them off before setting them on the table.

"What's your favorite memory from this place," he asked. Her face lit up.

"Well, there's a lot. Heather and I set the stove on fire once. We were trying to make supper and surprise our parents and we spilled grease on the burner. We were so scared we just screamed until Dad rushed in and through something on the fire."

He watched her laugh at the memory, just enjoying the sound.

"When I was sixteen," she continued, "my boyfriend and I snuck up here. It was fun for the first five minutes… and then my dad burst through the door and threw him out in the cold. Apparently he'd been following us."

"Sounds like you spent a lot of time getting in trouble up here."

"Yeah, I did."

And it looked like that tradition was continuing. After all, what could be more dangerous than being up here alone with him? Even if he had swore to himself never to hurt her.

After supper, they spent hours sitting on the floor by the fire, drinking mugs of hot chocolate. He couldn't help but admire hour the flickering light illuminated the brown flecks in her eyes and how lighter shades of honey shown through her dark hair. It felt as though he were sitting here with an angel, an angel he didn't deserve.

Her sudden giggle distracted him from his admiration of her and he was stunned further when her hand reached up to wipe something from his lower lip.

"You have hot chocolate running down your chin," she chuckled, but he was mesmerized by her fingers as they ran down his face.

The warmth from the fire made his thoughts hazy and she was so close to him. It would be so simple to reach out and take her face in his hands… to pull her just that much closer…

The monster inside him roared with pleasure and urged him on and without making a conscious effort to do it, he allowed _him_ to take control. Once the more animalistic part of him was acting, it was the easiest thing in the world to take her hand, caressing her face with the other. At first, her eyes reflected the need in his and a deep growl of triumph issued from his throat. But as he pulled her face closer, he heard her suck in a deep breath, as though waking up from a dream.

She was pulling away from him, clearly surprised by her own reaction, but the beast was still in control… and now he couldn't rein him in. He took her wrists in his hands and in a blur, she was on the floor beneath him as he held her hands over her head. It seemed the monster was set on forcing a reaction out of her.

"Vincent," she breathed, but her anger wasn't convincing and the beast was sure he'd noticed the look of need return to those beautiful eyes.

But then there was pain.

"Vincent, you're hurting me," she whimpered, and just like that, the beast was gone.

Vincent threw himself off of her, sliding away from her as she sat up. What had he just done?!

"Catherine… I'm sorry. I–"

"It's fine. I'm okay," she assured him, sitting up and massaging her wrists. He could see the red marks his hands had made and he felt suddenly sick. "Are _you_ okay," she asked, taking him completely by surprise.

He'd just attacked her and she was worried about him?!

"Does it matter?" His response was so low, he wasn't sure she'd caught it.

"Vincent… the look in your eyes… it was like you weren't even there. What happened?"

"I lost control. I just… lost control."

He couldn't even meet her eyes. How could he have let that happen?

"I'm fine," she reassured him, dropping her head to meet his troubled gaze. "I'm just fine."

"You'll have bruises there tomorrow," he mumbled, taking her hands gently into his and feeling the slightest bit of elation when she didn't pull them away. She should have.

"Vincent… I don't know how I feel about… us," she explained, stumbling over her words. "When I'm with you I just… get caught up in the moment. I just don't know how this would work. I don't ever want to do anything that would put you in danger."

"Catherine, my existence puts _you_ in danger on a daily basis."

She rolled her eyes and her smile came back. "That's my choice."

"Because you care about me," he repeated, knowing that it should be enough… but he couldn't help wishing it was more.

He was surprised to see she was confused. "I don't… I mean yes. I do care about you. But sometimes… it feels stronger than that." She was staring at the floor, searching her own head for an explanation… while a warmth started spreading in his chest. Not a calming warmth. It was like a fire that was quickly scorching everything within. It was hope!

Her eyes finally met his and there were tears shimmering there. As one trickled down her face, he reached up to wipe the moisture away. She seemed to enjoy the contact just as much as he did, closing her eyes to revel in it… but then her eyes shot open.

"I should probably go to bed," she explained, getting roughly to her feet – her injury still made it hard.

As he watched her walk away, he knew he should say something. He had to say something! But he'd never been good with his words. What if it was the wrong thing? His opportunity was slipping away; she was almost to the kitchen. He wasn't even sure he had the right to tell her his feelings. What if they put her in even more danger? But he just had to know if she felt the same way.

He was on his feet in one lithe movement and then he was running, cutting her off on her way to sit her mug on the counter. His mouth floundered open and closed for a moment as he stared into her eyes, fighting over what he should say.

But he decided to show her instead.

As soon as their lips met, the hint of electricity he'd felt every time they touched exploded, sending shocks of heat through every inch of his body, making him crave more. One hand circled her waist while the other cupped her cheek, holding her close. At first, she seemed too surprised to react, but then her hand snaked up into his hair and she was kissing him back with equal ferocity.

He barely registered that he was lifting her off the ground, that he'd backed them into a wall, or that her legs had wrapped around his waist. He only pulled away when he realized she needed air, but his lips traveled down her neck to her shoulder, causing a moan to escape her lips. The sound drove him that much crazier and his lips found hers again, savoring the taste.

"Vincent… wait," she mumbled against his lips.

It took every ounce of self-control in him to break away from her. Her face was flushed and her lips were swollen, but her excitement mirrored his.

"Maybe we should… take this slow," she panted as she tried to pull in the much needed air.

He could smell the sweet taint in the air that signaled her arousal and everything in him begged for her touch. But she was the most special thing in his world. She deserved to be treated with reverence and respect. Slowly, he backed them off the wall, allowing her legs to fall to the ground. She was a little wobbly and the sight of her so off-balance because of him brought a smile to his face.

As he stepped backwards, allowing her more room to regain her balance, his foot bumped against the broken shards of the coffee mug, which had apparently fallen to the floor and shattered without either one of them noticing.

"You'd think one of us would have heard that," she chuckled breathlessly.

"I'll clean it up. You can go to bed. That was all I wanted to say." His smile spread wider as she blushed, but instead of turning for the bedroom, she raised up on her toes and kissed him again.

This was soft and sweet, but the passion was still there. The gentleness of it only increased his feelings for her.

"Good night," she whispered as she pulled away and strode down the hall.

"Good night," he echoed after her.

~BATB~

He sat high up in the tree, high enough so his scent didn't carry down to the ground. From his position he could hear every movement in the cabin below.

So, Vincent had finally made his move.

He couldn't help but be fascinated by these two. Vincent was a monster who could kill her in a matter of seconds and this woman was willing to risk her own life just to be with him. Why? He didn't understand.

He listened now to the soft creak of the bed as Catherine settled down for the night, her breathing growing steadier and even. From the kitchen came the sound of the broken coffee mug pieces falling into the trash can and the sound of water running over dirty plates.

Still, he continued to listen. Vincent had experienced a wide range of strong emotions in such little time. He was sure it would happen soon.

And sure enough, the front door burst open and Vincent stumbled out into the light, falling snow, falling to the ground and gripping his head in agony. At least he'd had the sense to make it outside.

He watched the change of Vincent's face as the beast took control and watched as he ran headlong into the woods. He wondered if Vincent was also having the flashbacks, but noting that Catherine was as of yet unharmed, he guessed not.

The thought of the woman brought his focus back to the house and he crept through the tops of the trees, still careful not to drop down low enough for his scent to carry. He could hear her soft breaths as she dreamed.

She was peaceful and happy; perfectly content with the way the night had gone and probably anticipating the next day in her dreams.

Little did she know that the object of her affections was tearing up the forest less than a mile away.


	7. New Threats

**A/N:** So sorry this took so long. I promise to try and do better! Thanks again to all who shared their love for this story!

Chapter 7: New Threats

JT had no idea why he was doing this. He'd raised his hand to knock three times, but just couldn't bring himself to do it. What was he supposed to say? "I was in the neighborhood," was so overplayed. But he just wanted to check up on her – not that that was an acceptable answer either.

Before he could make up his mind, the door opened and a man with a boyish face and long dark hair nearly ran into him.

"Whoa… can I help you," the guy asked, staring at him in confusion.

"Um, uh, is… is Heather home," JT asked, feeling his face go red.

"She's inside. I'm sorry, who are you?"

He was just considering how best to answer that question when Heather came bustling into the kitchen. "Josh? I thought you were leaving for work?"

"There's some guy at the door asking for you," Josh explained, eyeing JT with a look of annoyance.

Heather ran up beside Josh, and the sight of her took his breath away. The clothing was simple, but she had such a radiance about her that was only magnified by her bubbly personality.

"JT! What are you doing here," she asked, smiling warmly.

"I was, you know, in the neighborhood. I knew Catherine was out of town, so I thought I'd come check on you. You know, make sure you were doing okay. Not that you need checking up on or anything. I just…"

He was babbling, but he felt so foolish standing there in front of her and her boyfriend, who had obviously spent the night.

"That was really sweet. Why don't you come in? I made some coffee."

"Babe, I'm about to head off to work," Josh complained. "I don't want you here alone with some guy–"

"Ugh, will you just go. I'll be fine."

Josh looked over JT one more time before kissing Heather on the cheek and shoving past him. Something in JT's lungs released as the door swung shut behind him and he was officially alone with Heather.

"Did Cat put you up to this," Heather asked, pouring out two mugs of coffee.

"Cat? Oh, no. No, she didn't ."

"Really? Cause this feels like something she'd do. She's been awfully paranoid lately."

"I'm sure it's just her line of work. Dealing with homicides and missing persons all day, it's bound to take its toll," he reasoned, not that he'd ever bothered to ask Catherine about her job – unless it involved Vincent.

"Well, in that case, this is super sweet of you."

Heather sat the coffee mug on the island where JT took a seat, careful not to disturb the hundreds of pictures she had scattered all over the place.

"What's all this," he asked, picking up one of her and Catherine together.

"It's all the pictures from my dad's engagement party. I'm working on a collage for the reception."

"That's a lot of pictures. Won't it be more of a mural?"

He wasn't sure how she'd take his jokes, but to his delight, she laughed.

"That's the hard part. I've been begging Josh to help me, but he swears he's no good at it. Cat's always so busy. It's literally taking forever."

"If you need help…" JT paused to check her expression. "I wouldn't mind."

"You'd help me with all these pictures? Why?"

"Well, I… I don't have any plans. I mean, why not?"

Heather considered him for a moment before breaking into a grateful smile. "Thank you."

Her cell phone started ringing from her bedroom and she jumped up to answer it, leaving him alone to stare at the enormous job he'd just signed up for. But at least the company was good.

He sorted through smiling face after smiling face while he waited on her to return, but as he picked up one of two men laughing together, he froze.

"Sorry about that. It was just my soon to be stepmom calling about wedding stuff," she explained, taking up her seat beside him again.

"Who's this," he asked, keeping his voice quiet so it wouldn't shake.

"Oh, the tall one's my dad and that guy is some friend from college or something. He was only there for like thirty minutes. I almost didn't get a picture."

"A friend from college? What college?"

"Princeton. I think he does something for the government. I personally suspect he's some sort of secret agent. He barely spoke to anyone."

JT almost didn't catch the rest of her sentence, because standing there, smiling beside her dad, was Silverfox.

~BATB~

Catherine had to admit it was the coldest shower she'd ever taken, not that she didn't need it. Her thoughts of Vincent were heated enough.

It wasn't that the water wasn't warm, but apparently the fire had died from last night and the snow coating the windows seemed to suck the heat from the cabin. She had no idea how she'd even slept through the night when it was this cold.

Stepping out of the shower, she dried off as quickly as possible and threw her clothes on, making sure her shirt was loose enough so the wound could breathe. As she adjusted the sleeves, she noticed her wrists, which were a light, grayish color. Certainly not as bad as she'd expected. She quickly re-fixed the brace on her arm and started making her way to the kitchen.

Her stomach did little flips as she thought of greeting Vincent this morning. What if he kissed her again? What if he didn't? She still wasn't sure starting a relationship was a good idea, what with Muirfield to watch out for and the fact that their entire life would be lived inside his bedroom.

That last thought stuck in her head and she had to admit, it didn't sound bad. She was certain she could spend the rest of her life in bed with Vincent and never stop craving him. That was what it was – an addiction. After last night, she couldn't stop thinking about his lips on hers and his hands everywhere else.

As she stepped foot in the kitchen, she was surprised to find it empty. The fire had died, just as she'd expected. She checked the spare bedroom, expecting to find him sleeping, but the sheets looked as if they'd never been touched.

Running back into the living room, she checked the couch to see if he'd slept there instead, but it was also empty.

Then it hit her; he must have gone out to get more firewood.

She moved back into the kitchen, starting up a pot of coffee and checking their supplies for breakfast, but something about his disappearance bothered her. This was Vincent after all and there were about a million different things that could have gone wrong.

Donning her jacket and boots, she stepped out into the lightly, packed snow, stopping at the tree line.

"Vincent," she called.

She wasn't sure calling his name out into the open like this was a good idea, but when no answer came, she called again. The wood pile was beside the house so he shouldn't have had to go far. The car was empty.

This was starting to look really bad and she was just considering running back inside for her gun, when a crumpled figure lying just through a think fringe of trees caught her eye. She ran for it, praying it wasn't a bear, but recognized Vincent's hair matted across his scared face.

"Vincent?! Vincent, wake up! Vincent," she called, collapsing beside him and feeling the side of his face. He wore no jacket and his skin was freezing, but he was still breathing. Any normal person would have probably died of hypothermia.

"Vincent, can you hear me?" Still nothing.

She slipped her arms up under his and tried to pull him back towards the house, but he was too solid. She'd never make it out of the trees, especially with the strain it was putting on her stitches.

"Vincent, please, you have to wake up. Vincent!"

Finally, she heard a groan escape his lips and managed to roll him over on his back, pushing the snow from his face.

"Vincent, are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"Ca… Catherine?"

"I'm right here."

His eyes opened slowly and found hers before gazing around in confusion. He seemed just as surprised as she did to find himself out in the snow.

"What happened," he asked, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

"That's what I was about to ask you. You weren't in the house when I woke up and I found you laying out here in the snow."

"I, uh… I don't remember."

She was about to question him further, but his lips were starting to turn blue.

"We need to get you inside. Come on."

She helped him up, holding him as close as possible and hoping that some of her body heat transferred to him. It was a treacherous walk back for both of them but they finally made it in the door and she helped him to the couch, rushing back outside to grab logs for the fire.

"You really don't know how you ended up out there," she asked as she started the fire, rubbing her sore abdomen.

"I remember cleaning up the coffee mug. My head started hurting." As she watched him rub his head at the memory, she couldn't help but notice that his lips still had a bluish tinge to them and he was shaking. Running to the closet, she grabbed a thick blanket, draping it over him and taking a seat on the couch with him.

"Has this ever happened before?"

"No, never. Do… do you think I could have hurt someone? What if I covered more ground than just the woods out there?"

She didn't know how to answer that. What if he had? "I think what we need to worry about right now is why it happened. Maybe you're sick. Maybe you react differently to viruses now… or something. Maybe–"

"Catherine, I haven't gotten sick once since they did this to me. It has to be something else. Maybe I'm losing my mind."

"No! Don't say stuff like that. You're not crazy! Okay? You're not. We'll figure this out."

He was still shaking, so she jumped up and made him a cup of coffee, hoping it would help warm him up.

"We need to call JT," Vincent suggested, staring down at the mug.

"Okay, we'll call him."

Catherine retrieved her phone and quickly called JT, unsurprised when he answered after one ring.

"_You_ are not supposed to be calling me," JT protested immediately. "What if those CIA guys – who are probably in with Operation Muirfield – tap into my phone records? How am I supposed to explain a call from a cop I supposedly barely know?"

"JT, I'm sorry. I didn't think about that. Listen, we have a situation."

"Funny, I was just about to call Vincent with a situation. Not 'ha ha' funny. I mean, 'our lives are royally screwed' funny. But you go first; what happened now?"

"Last night, Vincent blacked out," Catherine explained, seeing the scowl increase on Vincent's face.

"Blacked out? What do you mean blacked out?"

"I found him lying in the woods this morning and he has no memory of how he got there or what he was doing for the past ten hours."

"Is he hurt?"

"No, he was cold, but he's fine now. JT, what's going on? I've never heard of this happening before."

"Gee, I don't know. Let me consult my Muirfield handbook and I'll get back to you."

Catherine rolled her eyes.

"When he blacked out… does he know if he… you know, turned into his other self," JT asked.

"No, he doesn't remember anything."

Vincent let out a deep sigh, bringing them back to his worry about hurting people, and she reached out to take his hand. To her surprise, his body temperature was already back to normal.

"I would tell you to get back here now so I can keep an eye on him, but I'm still waiting for the suits to make their move."

"Still no sign of them?"

"Not that I've seen, though I'm sure they could search the warehouse without leaving a trace. I've been staying there as little as possible."

"I don't think it was a good idea to leave him there like that," Vincent muttered, eyes searching the grooves in the floor. "What if they take him while we're out here?"

"We did this to throw them off his trail. If he hasn't heard from them, it's probably working," she assured him, covering the mouthpiece with her hand.

"Unfortunately, that's not our only problem," JT explained. "I was with Heather earlier and–"

"With Heather? Why were you with Heather?"

"I was, um… I just wanted to check up on her and make sure she was okay. With everything going on, I just didn't like that she was there by herself. Not that she was there by herself."

Catherine caught herself smiling as she listened to JT babble and even Vincent had some humor back in his eyes.

"Look, that's not the point," JT continued. "While I was there, she had all these pictures spread out from your dad's engagement party. In one of them, your dad was talking to some old college friend. You know who that friend was? Silverfox."

"What," Catherine gasped, and Vincent's head shot up.

"Yeah, apparently they have history."

"W-what did she say about him?"

"She didn't really know anything about him. Said he was only there for like thirty minutes, and I'm betting he left so fast to avoid running into you."

"Maybe that's really all they are. College friends," Vincent suggested.

"They have matching rings and he was at my dad's engagement party? That's a pretty big coincidence," Catherine noted.

"Um, hello," JT called. "Are you two having a conversation without me? Cause I'd like to join in."

Catherine hit the speaker phone with another roll of her eyes. "Sorry. I just said I think it's too much of a coincidence."

"One of us needs to get on that. I volunteer the daughter who also happens to be a cop," JT suggested.

"How am I supposed to look into anything when I'm up here for the week?"

JT sighed. "Good point. Maybe if I spend enough time with Heather I can get invited over to your dad's."

Now Vincent broke into an actual smile. "I say go for it."

"Yeah, but just be careful," Catherine insisted. "I don't want my sister mixed up in this."

"Don't worry. I'll keep her safe. As for the black outs… just do the wait-and-see approach. Maybe it won't happen again."

"Thanks JT," Vincent called before Catherine ended the call.

"Wow," she breathed, falling back against the back of the couch and trying to take it all in.

"How's your stitches," Vincent asked, his hand twitching towards her shirt. "You overexerted yourself when you half carried me in here."

"They're fine. Just a little sore."

"Can I see?" That one tiny question bore so many implications. After last night, just the thought of him touching her bare skin built up such anticipation, she thought it would drive her insane. Not to mention the fact that if her heart started jack-hammering in her chest, he was bound to hear it.

But instead of denying him, she raised her shirt just high enough to expose the bandage on her abdomen. So carefully that she barely felt it, his expert hands lifted the bandage and he bent his head to examine her stitches. Just as she expected, the feel of his warm hands on her stomach sent little thrills through her, causing her to focus suddenly on the perfect curve of his lips or the way a muscle in his neck flexed as he concentrated.

"What's the verdict, Doc? Will I live," she teased, bringing a smile back to his face.

"It looks fine. But you should probably take it easy for the rest of the day."

He fixed her bandage back into place and pulled her shirt back down.

"How about some breakfast. I think we both need to eat something," she suggested, taking her jacket off and tossing it aside.

She was about to stand when his hand on her arm brought her back down. He was suddenly angry, so angry he was shaking as he stared down at her hand. Following his gaze, she realized her jacket must have hiked up her shirt sleeve, revealing the light bruise on her wrist.

"Vincent, its fine. I'm fine."

"It's not fine! I did that. I–"

"It was an accident. Please stop worrying about it," she begged, but she could see the self-hatred in his eyes.

All she wanted to do was take his mind off her bruises and as the idea came to her, she wondered why she hadn't thought of it yet.

Taking his face in her hands, she laid a gentle kiss to his lips. Or… at least it started out that way. His lips were intoxicating and she found her hands wrapping around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His weight shifted and she suddenly found her back pressed into the cushions while he hovered over her, practically devouring her as he ran kisses from her lips, down her jaw, to her neck and back again.

She was still panting when those marvelous lips found hers again and she had a sudden urge to be as close to him as physically possible… and the clothing was hindering that. Her hands found the hem of his shirt, starting to lift it up when his hand clamped down on them and he started chuckling against her lips.

"Wasn't it you who wanted to take things slow," he asked, still only inches from her face.

"Oh, that was my stupid idea? Can't we pretend I didn't say that?"

He laughed and brought his lips back to hers again, and again, and finally pulled away, helping her up as well.

"Don't we have enough problems without worrying about you jumping my bones without warning," he joked, earning him an elbow to the stomach.

But she couldn't stop blushing as he made breakfast, hoping the wait wouldn't be the death of her.

**A/N:** I know the "stalker guy" – as someone put it – wasn't revealed yet, but he'll make an appearance next chapter and throw another interesting set of obstacles their way. Let me know what you think!


	8. The Visitor

**A/N:** Thanks for all the encouraging reviews! You guys are amazing! I also want to think all the people that searched past episodes to find Mr. Chandler's first name, but to keep up with consistency, his name in this is still Howard. I really do appreciate the help though! Thanks!

Chapter 8: The Visitor

The snow had started falling in earnest now, but Vincent and Catherine were warm and dry, lying on the floor beside the fire. They'd barely moved all morning.

And what an enjoyable morning it had been!

They'd talked for hours… and kissed… and talked some more… and kissed… and explored…

Things hadn't gotten too erotic; Vincent was taking her seriously and she was starting to regret ever asking to take things slow. But he somehow managed to make the waiting so enjoyable that she couldn't complain. He teased her, running his hand up her shirt but stopping just short of the prize. Or working her up into a frenzy, only to pull back just as she thought she couldn't take anymore.

But now they were simply lying there, enjoying the feel of having each other. It all felt too surreal, like a dream she was about to wake up from. When she thought about it too much, she couldn't deny that they had several urgent problems that had to be dealt with before they could move forward.

For one, they'd been waiting all day for him to black out again – which, thankfully, he hadn't. That was a mystery in itself. What had triggered it that in the first place? How did they keep it from happening again?

Then there was the possibility that her father was the enemy. It seemed too unlikely to be true. She'd been to his office countless times; seen the stacks of cases his law firm had to work through. What would he have to do with a secret sector of the government?

That brought her back to Muirfield who was the biggest problem.

"Stop thinking," Vincent ordered, a broad smile coming across his face.

"How did you know I was thinking?"

"I can practically hear those gears turning in your head. Just relax. No worrying, remember?"

"I'm sorry. I'll stop now."

She rested her head back under his chin, hearing his heart beating out a steady rhythm. Yes, not thinking was wonderful.

But just as she was getting comfortable again, Vincent's head shot up.

"What is it," she asked, taking in his serious expression.

"There's a car turning down the driveway. An SUV, I think."

"A car? This is private property. Why would a car be coming through here?" She immediately regretted asking that question, knowing the answers were too ghastly to think about.

She could hear it now too as it rolled to a stop in front of the cabin.

"Go to the back. I'll answer the door," she insisted, standing up and moving to retrieve her gun.

"You want me to go hide," he asked incredulously.

"Yes, I do! It might just be some guy who got lost, but if it's not, you can't be seen. So go!"

He wasn't happy about it, but when the doorbell rang, he disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Hesitantly, Catherine made her way to the door, keeping the hand with her gun behind the door.

On the other side was a man maybe in his late twenties – if even that – wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. He smiled broadly at her.

"Hi. Um, sorry to bother you, but my GPS quit on me. I was hoping you could give me directions to town," he asked. His voice was pleasant enough, but there was something about his eyes that made her suspicious. They never stopped moving, as if he expected to be ambushed.

"Sure, it's not far. Just–"

"Actually, I was hoping I could come inside. My hands are too numb to write them down out here."

She considered him for a moment; he wasn't overly tall or big. She could take him.

"Okay, sure."

She opened the door, shoving her gun into her belt at the back. As long as she didn't turn around, he wouldn't see it. Instead of leading him into the living room, she reached into her purse on the kitchen counter and handed him paper and a pen, keeping him close to the door.

"Like I said, it's not far." She relayed the instructions, noting that he was only paying enough attention to write them down. His over-active eyes were surveying the room, probably noting the men's jacket thrown over the back of a chair or the plates piled in the sink from breakfast.

"Easy enough," she asked, smiling warmly at him as if she'd noticed nothing.

"Yeah. Thanks so much for the help."

"It's no problem."

She was just moving to open the door for him when he made to shove the directions in his pocket, making a severe rookie mistake. As he went for his pocket, he raised his shirt up just enough that she could see the tip of his gun. She was sure just from that single glimpse that it was a police issue.

He must have realized his mistake, because when he met her eyes again, there was a hard edge to his young face.

"So, you work for the police department up here… or are you undercover," she asked with narrowed eyes.

"You could say that. Thanks again for the directions."

He threw the door open and stepped back out into the snow without a backwards glance and Catherine shut the door behind him, watching as he climbed into his car and drove off.

"Think he was Muirfield," Vincent asked, appearing suddenly behind her and making her jump.

"I don't know. Maybe. That was a police issued gun, I'm sure of it. Do you think we should leave? He saw your jacket. What if he sends another team up here after you?"

He sighed, his face falling. "Yeah, I guess we sh–"

His attention was suddenly focused on the window, and she could tell he was listening intently to something too far off for her to hear.

"What is it? Are there more?"

"No. I think he just crashed his car."

Catherine didn't know whether to laugh or groan. If he really was Muirfield, it served him right. But that would also mean he wasn't leaving anytime soon and she had some more acting to do.

"I'm going out there to see what's going on," Vincent suggested, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on.

"What? You can't! What if he sees you?"

"He won't see me. Trust me. I'll be right back."

He was gone before she could utter another word in protest and the house was too quiet in his absence. She took up a position at the window, watching the snow continue to fall as she counted the seconds.

And then, in the quiet of the house, she distinctly heard the back door open. Pulling her gun from her belt, she made her way towards the sun room, which was just off the living room. There was no sound of movement. When she finally made it to the back door, the room appeared empty.

Before she could even register how it happened – a hand came over her mouth and another snatched the gun from her hand. She struggled futilely as the man backed her into the wall, pinning her against his body.

Looking up, she stared into a set of familiar green eyes that were alight with humor and excitement at her predicament. Slowly, he removed the hand from her face, challenging her with his eyes to make a move. She didn't… yet.

"Who are you," she asked, feeling the firmness of the wall at her back and wishing she could take a step away from him.

"Let's just say I'm not here to kill you. I think we can wait for your boyfriend before we dive into the rest." He made his way into the living room, her gun dangling from his hand, and collapsed into a chair by the fire with a coy smile on his face.

What was she supposed to do now?

~BATB~

This was easier than he'd expected. JT sat with Heather on the couch, going through picture after picture; deciding which looked best for a collage and which belonged in a scrap pile. She'd just given him some of the best news he'd heard in weeks and he couldn't stop smiling.

Apparently, she'd finally broken up with her boyfriend.

"We were just so wrong together. He never wanted to go do anything, just stay in the bedroom. Do you know how boring the bedroom can get after weeks, no matter what you're doing?"

"That's not a phrase a guy wants to hear."

"Well, for him it's true. I think I deserve a little wining and dining."

"I agree. Diamonds too. A car, maybe."

"Are you making fun of me," she asked incredulously, almost making him laugh at her kitten-like anger.

"No. Well, maybe a little. I'm sure you'll find the right guy who will adore you and do anything for you."

"Is that what you do for my sister?"

That took him completely off guard. "Your sister? What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on. I guessed she had a secret boyfriend a long time ago. Personally, if it was me, I would have brought you out in the open at the beginning. You're a real catch."

His mind completely left him in that instant. On the one hand, he was incredibly excited that she thought he was a catch. But on the other… she really thought he and Catherine were dating?!

"N-no, no. It's not like that, I swear! We're just friends – just friends."

"Really," she inquired, a smile donning her face that said she didn't believe him in the slightest.

"Really. We're just friends."

She considered that for a moment, studying him to see if he was telling the truth. "Are you sure Cat feels the same way?"

"Absolutely. Nothing romantic has ever occurred between us."

"Okay… well, in that case, how would you like to be my date to my dad's wedding? You'll be much better company than Josh."

"S-sure! I'd love to."

Had that actually happened? He couldn't decide which was the stronger emotion, giddiness or trepidation. It had been a long time since he'd been out on a date. And what if it went further than that? What if he wound up really liking her; how long could he lie to her before he'd lose her?

The door bell rang, bringing him back to the present and Heather ran off to answer the door.

"Dad? What are you doing here," she asked. Her dad? JT spun around on the couch to see Mr. Chandler walking through the door and eyeing him with suspicion.

"Can't a father check up on his own daughter?"

"I'm a grown woman. Besides, shouldn't you be checking up on your fiancé? Isn't that what soon-to-be married people do, surprise each other?"

"I just don't like the idea of you being here all by yourself. Though, I see now that isn't the case."

JT stood as Mr. Chandler walked up to the couch and extended his hand.

"Howard Chandler, but you can call me Mr. Chandler," he introduced, and Heather gave an eye roll.

"Uh, JT Forbes. It's nice to meet you, sir." Why did this suddenly feel like high school all over again?

"JT Forbes? The same JT that saved my Catherine?"

"Yes, sir."

He wasn't sure what to expect by the way Mr. Chandler was eyeing him, but a smile soon broke across his face.

"Well, then, I'm glad I met you. Thank you so much for what you did for my daughter."

"Your welcome. I'm just glad she's okay."

"I do have some questions, though."

"Daddy, don't," Heather begged, but realized it was pointless and sat down with a sigh beside JT.

"It's nothing rude. Heather here says that Catherine called you that night, is that right?" JT nodded, now officially sweating bullets. "It just seems funny that Catherine, who has numerous police officers on speed dial, would call a college professor to come save her."

JT took a quick second to check his facial expression, making sure nothing about him screamed liar.

"I don't think she meant to. I think someone dialed my number by accident and when she realized what had happened, she screamed out her location," he lied, keeping his face as light and honest as possible.

"And you didn't think to call the cops at that time?"

"I wasn't thinking straight. My only thought was to get to her and help her. I didn't realize the danger she was in."

"And, how is it that you knew how to save her life? I don't believe being a professor in Biochemistry prepared you for that."

Really? Had this guy thought of every angle? "I'm also a medical researcher. I have some basic knowledge. I mean, you see someone bleeding, you try and stem the blood flow."

"Are you done," Heather asked her dad impatiently.

"Almost. How long have you known Catherine?"

If only _he _could be a mentally unstable beast, then he would have an excuse to throw this infuriating man through a window! "Not long. We met while she was on a case and we've just… kind of been talking ever since."

Mr. Chandler looked thoughtful now, but he asked no more questions.

"Well, I guess I better head back. I'm glad you're doing okay, Heather, but if you need anything, just call," he instructed his daughter, dropping a kiss on her head before making his way out the door.

"I am so sorry about that," Heather apologized. "He's usually very nice."

"Its fine," he lied, and quickly sat on his hands to stop them from shaking.

~BATB~

Vincent found the car easily enough, smashed up against a tree. But there was no one inside. In fact, the door looked like it had been ripped from its hinges. But… what had the force to do that aside from… him?

He cast around for any sign of a struggle, but the snow was barely disturbed. And then the metallic scent of blood reached his sensitive nostrils. It seemed to be coming from above him and when he turned his gaze into the trees, he spotted the very man who had just moments before been talking to Catherine… now dead and bleeding.

His hands were shaking, not from anger over this man, but from the fear that he'd just left Catherine completely alone in that cabin.

He took off at a run so fast he blurred with speed and tore into the cabin to see Catherine standing in the middle of the living room staring at a mysterious man sitting by the fire.

"I'm guessing your Vincent. Now we can get started," the man exclaimed, jumping from the chair and making his way towards them, all the while whirling Catherine's gun around on his finger.

Vincent immediately pulled Catherine behind him, ready to fight or whisk her away at a moment's notice.

"Who are you," was all Vincent could think to ask.

"Alec. And if you haven't already guessed, we have a lot in common."

"What do you mean?" He already had an idea exactly what he meant, just from the damage done to that door, but he wanted to hear him confirm it.

Instead of answering, Alec casually picked up a fire poker and with hardly any force, bent it in his bare hands. Catherine gasped.

"Is that explanation enough?"

"He's… he's like you," she breathed. "He's the same guy that tossed me my gun that day."

"Beauty and brains. Great combination, by the way." Alec winked at her, causing the beast inside Vincent to let loose a terrible roar inside his head.

"How is this possible? I was the only survivor in Afghanistan."

"Do I look like someone ready to give up my life for this country," Alec scoffed, tossing the fire poker on the floor. "Great cabin by the way. I really love the exposed beams."

His voice was so calm and light; it was as if he was just an old friend dropping by for a visit. It was in complete contrast with Vincent who was watching him like a hawk. As he admired the cabin, Alec tossed the gun up into the air and caught it deftly in one hand as if it were a toy.

"You might want to be careful where you aim that thing," Catherine warned, eyeing the gun with unease.

He only smiled wider. "I can see this is a problem." Expertly, he unloaded the gun, tossing the bullets to one side of the room before crushing the gun in one hand and dropping it to the floor.

"There," he exclaimed, "not that I actually needed a weapon."

"You never answered my questions," Vincent reminded him. "How is it possible?"

"Now, now; I can't divulge all my secrets just like that. Besides, I came to help you. You could be a little more grateful."

"Help me? I find that hard to believe."

"Really? Because you're life's going so smooth. You're in hiding with a death sentence hanging over your head. Of course, there are the perks." At that statement, Alec's eyes roamed over Catherine – or, at least the parts of her Vincent wasn't blocking from view.

"You said you're here to help him. Help him how," Catherine asked, placing a calming hand on Vincent's arm. His hands had started shaking and he was glaring daggers at Alec.

"From what I've noticed, the black outs have started."

This took Vincent by surprise. "How do you know about that?"

"It's not every day you stumble across another screwed up genetic experiment. I was curious."

"And that's what brought you here, curiosity," Catherine asked, the hint of sarcasm clear in her voice.

"Like I said, I'm not here to discuss my back story. But if you'd like to know the key to ridding yourself of the memory loss problem, I'm happy to help."

"And what's in it for you," Vincent asked, still tense. He certainly didn't trust this man and he wanted him as far away from Catherine as possible.

"All will be explained with time. Although, I can think of one very sweet way you can repay me." Alec's eyes darted meaningfully to Catherine, who scoffed and looked away.

But this had finally pushed the beast in Vincent over the edge and in a rush of movement, he had Alec pinned against the wall with his hand around his throat.

"You're staying away from her," Vincent ordered.

To his surprise, Alec smirked and launched both himself and Vincent off the wall and to the floor where he stood with his foot on Vincent's throat, cutting off his air.

"Stop it! What are you doing," Catherine shouted, rushing over, but Vincent yanked Alec's foot from his neck and sent him landing hard on his back.

Vincent felt the features of his face shift as the beast took over and he was suddenly pulling Alec from the floor by his collar and tossing him effortlessly into the wall.

"Vincent stop," Catherine yelled, but all he could think about was ripping out the throat of the man in front of him. "Vincent, listen to me. Stop!"

Her voice was breaking through, but it was the laugher coming from Alec that really had the beast retracting.

"You have a lot to learn," Alec taunted.

Vincent's now human eyes found Catherine, horrified by the damage they'd done with her mere inches away.

"Now," Alec continued, re-adjusting his shirt. "Would you like my help before you kill the woman of your dreams?"

**A/N:** I know hardly any questions were answered, but Alec is a very tight-lipped guy. I can promise a few explanations in the next chapter, but you should be warned… he's also a liar!


	9. Disturbing Turn of Events

**A/N:** I've been super behind with responding to the reviews and I'm really sorry! I appreciate every one of them! This chapter and the next one gives a little background into Alec and his _supposed_ motives, along with adding a little twist in Vincent's, er, problems. Poor guy. Enjoy!

Chapter 9: Disturbing Turn of Events

"We could always kick him out," Catherine suggested, wishing Vincent would at least stop pacing. He was making her dizzy.

"Right. Like that would work."

"And you know, the person you're talking about can hear you," Alec shouted from the living room. Why had Catherine thought he couldn't hear them behind the bedroom door?

"I don't suppose you could give us some privacy," she shouted back.

"I would, but this is a very comfortable chair."

Vincent was pacing even more furiously now, running frustrated hands through his hair.

"I don't trust him," he whispered, though they both knew it did no good.

"I don't either. What if he's working for _them_? What if they made him like this to find you?"

"That's not all I'm worried about," Vincent continued. "He's the guy that broke into your apartment and visited the warehouse."

"You're sure."

"Absolutely. Scent's the same."

"Well," Catherine started, trying to reason it all out in her head. "He said he's been following us because he was interested in you. That would explain the breaking and entering… and why he managed to slip out without you noticing."

There was a rough knock at the door that had both her and Vincent rolling their eyes.

"Am I allowed to take part in the conversation that's all about me," Alec asked.

Catherine kept her gaze trained on Vincent as she rose to open the door, hoping this wouldn't set him off again.

"Fine, what do you have to add," she asked as he strutted in.

"Just wondering if you wanted your shirt back." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out her Disneyworld shirt. She yanked it out of his hand.

"Why were you stealing from me? And why a shirt and a coffee mug?"

"They were personal. Especially the shirt; it held your scent. Made it easier to track you during the day."

His face was completely sincere – she didn't trust it at all. Vincent had been keeping track of her for nine years and had never had a problem finding her. Why would Alec need something personal?

"I don't care what your reasons are; stay out of Catherine's apartment," Vincent growled, balling his hands into fists.

"You know, I am the one person who can help you. I'd work on that attitude adjustment if I were you."

"You keep saying you can help me; so explain," Vincent countered, coming to stand by Catherine.

"Why do you think you blacked out? Any ideas?"

Catherine noticed Vincent's eyes slide quickly to her and back. "I've had some theories." At this, Alec quirked an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. "It happened after one of the happiest moments of my life."

As he gave his explanation, his eyes found Catherine's, gauging her reaction. The smile she gave him was reassuring and she noticed him relax a little.

"Your theory," Alec began, picking up Catherine's brush and twirling it in his hands, "is that your emotions were running so high that you lost yourself?" Neither Vincent nor Catherine responded, and he continued. "You see, the problem you're having is that you keep looking at this… problem… like it's just a change in attitude and appearance; like it's the way your body changes in response to strong emotions."

"That's what it is," Vincent argued, clearly confused by his point.

"Scientifically, maybe. But in here," Alec pointed to his temple, "in here it's a lot more than that. You have an animal inside you – like a split personality – and animals don't like to be caged up. The more you suppress it, the more it struggles to break free. The trick is to let it out to play every now and then."

For a moment, neither of them could respond. After turning the concept over and over in her head, Catherine finally managed to articulate an answer.

"You said let it out to play… when that happens, he could hurt someone. That's why he fights so hard against it. How can you ask him to do that?!"

Alec let out a long-suffering sigh and tossed her brush back on the vanity.

"The only reason he hurts people then is because he's letting the beast out when he's angry."

"'Letting' isn't exactly the word for it," Vincent clarified.

"And that backs up what I just said. When you get angry, the beast breaks free. That's when you're off your guard. That can also happen during times of extreme happiness, which, I'm guessing you experienced last night."

Vincent ran a shaking hand through his hair, considering this new angle.

"You said the only reason I hurt people is because I… change when I'm angry. When I become that thing… all I can think about is inflicting pain. I want to destroy everything in my path. I don't think that's gonna change."

Alec smiled, as if Vincent was finally catching on. "The beast is driven by instincts. When you're angry, he wants to let out all that frustration by inflicting as much pain as he can. But you try to keep all that bottled up because it's the right thing to do. He's not having any fun, so sometimes he pushes you out of your own head and does his own thing."

"Which is what you think happened last night," Catherine asked.

Alec just smirked, watching the confusion clear from their faces.

"So, how do I control it," Vincent asked, though the skepticism hadn't completely left his voice.

"You can never control it, but you can contain it. Like I said, you have to let it out, let it have its fun. Just make sure it's in a happy, controlled environment. And from what I've seen, there's only one person who can do that for you."

Alec stared meaningfully at Catherine and Vincent's eyes went wide.

"I can't lose control like that around her! It's too dangerous!"

"You won't hurt her… much," Alec explained, holding his hands up in front of him as Vincent advanced on him. "Obviously, you won't be yourself, which means you might take things farther than you normally would. But there is a fine line between pleasure and pain and some women don't mind crossing it."

An actual growl escaped Vincent's throat and Catherine had to grab his arm to stop the attack. Thankfully, Vincent regained control, meeting her eyes for the first time since Alec's explanation.

"Maybe we should give it a shot," she suggested.

"Catherine, I have no idea what I could do to you, and if I give myself over like that, I can't control it."

"But if he's right, if this beast inside you starts taking over… you could do much worse."

Vincent's eyes refused to leave hers, staring at her as if she were a precious, glass sculpture he was afraid of shattering. When his hand came up to touch her face, it was gentle, but only rested there for a second.

"Fine. Tell me what to do," he ordered, turning back to Alec.

"Now? It's almost supper time, and I can't work on an empty stomach. We'll start tomorrow." He turned to walk out of the room, but stopped just inside the door. "By the way, you wouldn't mind giving me a hand with the body burial thing, would you? It's probably not a good idea to let that guy rot outside."

~BATB~

Why had he said yes to this? JT sat at the table beside Heather… and across from her father and his fiancé. It had been a last minute plea; Mr. Chandler had asked Heather to meet him and Brooke for dinner and she couldn't bear the thought of going alone. Did this qualify as their first date? If so, it wasn't going well.

Mr. Chandler was nice enough, though every once and a while he'd shoot a suspicious glare his way. Brooke, on the other hand, was very curious of the man that had saved her soon-to-be stepdaughter's life. She asked endless questions about what he did at the University, his family, how he and Catherine met… and especially the friendship between him and Heather.

To his delight, Heather had nothing but praises for the man that had tirelessly helped her put together a collage for her dad's wedding, and he wondered how such a sweet, bubbly girl could have a tough cop for a sister.

By the time the main course made it to the table, his stomach was finally starting to unclench, and then he recognized two familiar men in suits approaching his table.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, but we'd like to have a word, Mr. Forbes," Agent Mosely explained as Agent Shane stood stone-faced at his side.

"Uh… sure." He forced his legs to remain firm as he stood from the table and followed them into a reservation-only room off to the side. Quickly, he thought back through his brief trip home, but couldn't recall a thing out of place. Had they been in and out of the warehouse already?

"We're here to inform you that we've visited your residence recently. It's interesting that you chose to live in an abandoned chemical plant," Mr. Mosely began.

"Don't you need a warrant for that?"

"Oh, we had a warrant. Aside from the grimy windows, you have what has to be the cleanest warehouse in all of New York."

"So I'm a clean guy? So what?" His hands were started to become slick with sweat, but he managed to keep a straight face, refusing to give anything away.

"Why do you live so isolated? We researched you and you used to have a life."

"I still do. In fact, I'm having dinner with a friend and her parents now."

"Yes, Detective Chandler's family. You seem to have hit it off quick with them."

"I saved Catherine's life. They're just getting to know me."

As he mentioned Catherine, Agent Shane finally cracked a smile.

"Speaking of Detective Chandler, we spoke to her father earlier today and he informed us that Catherine had called you during her kidnapping – by accident, of course. I don't recall reading that in your statement."

"I… I forgot."

"Just like you forgot to mention that you and Ms. Chandler were more than just mere acquaintances?"

They had him at a loss for words. What lie could he come up with to work himself out of this one?

"That was my fault," Heather called, striding around the corner.

"Excuse us, Miss, but this is a private conversation," Agent Mosely warned.

"It's about my sister, which means it has to do with me too. I told him not to say anything about the phone call. I thought my sister had gotten mixed up in something bad from one of her cases, and I didn't want JT to get wrapped up in it too."

JT was completely blown away by how quickly Heather had come to his defense and had to force his drooping mouth to shut.

"You told him to lie to the police?"

"I did."

They both waited with baited breath as the two agents shared a look.

"In light of the on-going investigation, we'll let this indiscretion slide," Mr. Mosely allowed. "But we may still have questions in the future."

With one more menacing look, Agent Mosely and his silent partner left the restaurant.

"Thank you… so much! What you did…," JT began, but he didn't have enough words to explain his gratitude. It wasn't only his life she'd just saved.

"You're welcome. And when we get back to my place, you're telling me why I just lied for you."

~BATB~

Vincent wasn't sure what had woken him. The room was quiet, still. Beside him, Catherine slept soundly, the sight of which drew his attention away from his problem.

She was so peaceful lying beside him. He wondered at what point during the night he had thrown his arms around her, but she didn't seem to mind. Her small body was curled into his and she even wore a small smile.

The nagging sensation was back, telling him something was wrong.

Was that what had woke him up, the feel of imminent danger? Carefully, he removed his arms from around Catherine, taking care not to wake her, and sat up, gazing around the room. It was empty, save for the two of them, but something didn't feel right. In fact, he was sure they weren't alone.

He made his way towards the door, super senses on overdrive and was just reaching for the door knob when a sudden voice froze him where he stood.

"Leaving her here alone," it asked, and Vincent spun on his heel, coming face to face with a man that had died nine years ago. He didn't even know his name, but he clearly remembered watching from the bushes as this man aimed a gun at a teenage Catherine who was begging for her life.

"What… y-you're dead," Vincent stammered, digging his nails into his hands to ensure he wasn't dreaming.

"So, you remember. I wasn't sure you would, what with all the lives you've taken."

"I'm dreaming. I have to be." Vincent silently willed himself to wake up, but nothing changed.

"Oh, you're not dreaming. And I don't think it's fair for a murderer to go unpunished, do you?"

"You're the murderer! I saved Catherine; you would have killed her."

"No matter what the reason, you still took a life. Did you know I had a family? Did you care?"

Vincent's gaze strayed to Catherine, who still slept soundly in the bed. He longed to wake her, just to make sure he wasn't crazy.

"Did you care," the man asked again.

"You were going to kill her!"

"So you didn't care. You didn't care that I had loved ones who would wonder why I hadn't come home."

Vincent stared incredulously at his victim, praying for him to just disappear. Ghosts weren't real! He wasn't really here! But no matter how many times he repeated that in his head, the man before him remained.

And then there was a change. Blood began seeping through the man's clothes, running down his forehead. His arm fell from his body to lay in a bloody mass on the floor.

"It's not pretty, is it? This is what you did. This is what you're capable of."

"I…I had to! You would have killed her!"

"And I guess you couldn't have simply taken her and run. You could have left me alive. But you can't control it! You have to kill! That's who you are!"

"No!"

"How long, do you think, before you do this to her?!"

That was all he could take. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting Catherine. He couldn't stand there and stare the horrors of his past in the face.

Somewhere in the bedroom, Catherine's worried voice echoed in his head, but he couldn't understand it. He had to rid himself of this delusion!

In a burst of speed, his hand came around the man's throat and he slammed him up against the wall, planning on forcing him into nonexistence. But as he held him there, he noticed his throat was unusually small. The image of the man became blurry, until it faded completely.

And Catherine stood before him, pressed against the wall with his hand around her throat.

"Vincent, stop," Alec voice commanded.

Horrified, Vincent released her and she slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. He knew he needed to check her wounds, to make sure he hadn't done any damage, but he was frozen. He'd attacked her! He could have killed her!

His eyes swam frantically around the room, searching for the man who had haunted him, but he was gone.

"What happened," Alec asked, helping an unsteady Catherine back to the bed.

"There was someone here. He… Catherine, I'm sorry. I…"

"Who was here, Vincent," Alec asked, blocking his path to the bed. Vincent realized with a start that Alec was now protected her from him. Vincent was the monster.

"Was it someone you'd killed," Alec inquired, taking Vincent by surprise.

"How did you know that?"

"It's just another perk of what we are. Flashbacks. It's part of the beast's plan to take over. He'll drive you crazy if you let him."

Just hours ago, he hadn't believed a word out of Alec's mouth, but now he clung to his every sentence. He could have killed Catherine!

"How do I make it stop?"

"By listening to me. By doing what I tell you."

Vincent's gaze landed on Catherine again, and to his surprise, she didn't look angry with him. She was worried. That was worse.

"I can't do it here, not around you," he told her.

"Vincent, I'm not leaving you to deal with this on your own!" Though her declaration was powerful, her voice was quiet and raw; the result of what he'd done.

"Catherine… I could–" She stood, and her fingers were suddenly on his lips, cutting off his sentence.

"I'm not leaving! End of discussion."

He could tell she was unsteady and navigated her back to the bed.

"You should sit down. You might have a concussion. And I don't think–," he started again, but her glare cut him off. How was it she could silence him with a single look.

"Well, now that's all settled," Alec began, but Vincent cut him off.

"Wait, I don't think we should do this here."

"And why not?"

"My friend, the one living in the warehouse you've been stalking, he works at the University. He has access to sedatives and tranquilizers. I want to try this there, and if anything goes wrong, you can put me down."

Catherine looked like she was about to protest, but he knew she couldn't deny the reasoning.

"We can leave in the morning," she suggested.

They all agreed, and once Alec left them alone – against Vincent's better judgment – he sat up the rest of the night with Catherine. Somehow he knew she was the only person who could keep him sane.

**A/N:** Just a little good news I've been dying to share with everyone I'm in contact with – I'm pregnant! Thanks for listening!


	10. Confessions

**A/N:** I'm sorry for taking so long to post. Morning sickness struck with a vengeance this week. I promise this is the last Alec-intensive chapter. I never like moving an OC to the spotlight, but he's essential to the story. I do promise that after this we'll have some serious Vincent/Cat moments!

Chapter 10: Confessions

The ride back to the city had been interesting to say the least. Vincent drove while Catherine sat in the passenger seat. He refused to allow even their hands to brush one another, probably afraid he'd hurt her. How many times did she have to tell him she trusted him?

Not that his behavior last night hadn't scared her. He was like a different person, so full of anger and rage. Her neck still throbbed where he'd grabbed her, but she resisted the urge to rub it, not wanting to bring his attention back to what he'd done.

Alec rode in the back, feigning boredom, but every so often, Catherine caught his gaze flicker to Vincent, as if waiting for him to lash out again.

"So, this JT guy must be a pretty good friend," Alec commented, breaking the tension in the air. They were well within city limits now.

"He is," was Vincent's short answer.

"And you're certain he'd never give you up? I mean, I get why Catherine's risking her life for you, but why this guy?"

Vincent tensed at his wording, but his voice was steady when he answered. "We're like family. We've been there for each other all our lives."

Catherine smiled at the knowledge that through everything life had dealt him, Vincent still had a friend like JT.

"And he knows what he's gotten himself into, I assume. He knows you're dangerous?"

Catherine turned in her seat to get a better look at Alec, wondering if he was trying to push Vincent's buttons on purpose.

"While we're on the subject," Catherine inserted, saving Vincent from having to answer, "don't you have a loyal friend that's hid you from Muirfield all these years? Or couldn't you find anyone to put up with you for that long?"

Alec gave his traditional smirk, but there was a different emotion hidden in his eyes. She'd touched a nerve.

"One, I don't need anyone. Two, Muirfield isn't after me."

The car slowed dramatically as his words registered with both her and Vincent.

"What do you mean they're not after you," Vincent asked, but Alec remained silent.

"You said you weren't in the army," Catherine remembered, her detective brain on overdrive. "When did they do this to you? And why?"

Alec stared back into her eyes as if deciding whether or not to answer, but finally rolled his eyes and explained.

"I know some of the top dogs in Project Muirfield, not that I knew who they were at the time. I was a thief – a very good thief, and some of them were willing to turn a blind eye while I did my thing, for a profit, of course. But once… they didn't want the money. They asked me to take part in a research program they were starting; told me if it worked, I'd be stronger and faster. I assumed it was a steroid or something. I figured, why not? It would make me better at what I do, which would make us all richer. Apparently, they were testing it on me – and select other individuals – before taking it straight to the army."

"You were their guinea pig," Catherine muttered, feeling a renewed hatred for Muirfield.

"We lived, which was all the proof they needed. They didn't bother to test us for more than a month. At first, it seemed to work. I could lift ten times my weight easy. I ran so fast I was nearly invisible. It was incredible. But one day, I was angry… upset over something a friend had done, something stupid. I turned into a monster and I killed him… my first victim."

"You said they did this to others. Does that mean there's more people like us out there," Vincent asked, having pulled over to the side of the road to take in the conversation.

"No, not anymore. You know how Muirfield is. Can't have anyone squealing on their illegal experiments."

"But you said–," Vincent started, but Alec was quick to cut him off.

"That they're not after _me_."

"Why," Catherine asked. "Is it because you're still making them money?"

"You really think that would have gotten Muirfield off my back? They have plenty of money, more than they need. I told you, I knew the top guys in the program. Knew their hobbies, their likes and dislikes… their families. I told them that if they so much as followed me home, I'd kill every last woman and child they cared about."

Catherine froze, unable to believe the words he'd just uttered. Vincent recovered before she did.

"You would knowingly kill an entire family out of anger," he asked, his nostrils flaring and his body shaking.

"Yes, I would. It's called survival. Sometimes, you have to play dirty. But you're focusing on the wrong thing; I'm not in hiding. I can walk around on the streets wherever and whenever I want. I can socialize and party and do whatever. While _you_ are locked up in a warehouse with only two people for company."

For a second, Catherine caught a yellow glow in Vincent's eyes before he managed to get himself back under control.

"Get out," he ordered, his voice low and deadly.

"You need my help, Vincent. Or I promise, you will kill her and your best friend. Can you live with that?"

Catherine didn't know whose side to take. More than anything, she wanted to shove Alec out of the car herself. Who could ever be so heartless? But Vincent needed help. She didn't think he'd survive if he ever hurt her or JT.

"I'll give you one week. After that, I want you gone," Vincent reasoned, pulling the car back on the road and speeding towards the warehouse.

JT was pacing in front of the door when they arrived and he looked just as agitated as they'd expected. He'd almost had a heart attack on the phone when they'd explained the situation and Catherine wasn't sure how much more he could handle.

"Are you insane," he started before they were fully out of the car. "You don't even know this guy."

"I don't like it any more than you do. Trust me," Vincent insisted.

But JT could do no more than glare as they three of them marched past him into the warehouse. Catherine's first response as they climbed the stairs to Vincent's lair was astonishment at how thoroughly JT had erased any trace of Vincent. It now looked like a spare room for storage instead of a fully functioning bedroom and kitchen.

"You actually sleep here," Alec asked, earning him an irritated glare from all three.

"Let's get started. Tell me what to do," Vincent demanded, tossing his duffel bag across the floor.

"I said you needed to be happy. I'm not sensing happiness right now."

"And I think we need to talk about this first," JT argued. "Some of us are just coming on board."

Catherine took a deep breath, not sure she could thoroughly explain this. "Vincent needs to give his… other self… control for a while. Apparently keeping him locked up for too long forces him to break free."

"Wait a second, you're treating Vincent like he has a split personality," JT asked Alec.

"Technically speaking… yes. And his other personality is incredibly bored."

"You know what, can you just give us a minute to talk," Catherine asked, glaring daggers at Alec who simply shrugged and exited the warehouse. "Is he gone," she asked Vincent, wondering if he was simply hiding out downstairs.

"He's outside; not far. We should talk low," he urged.

JT sighed in frustration. "Now can you tell me why we're trusting this guy?"

"We're not," Catherine explained. "But he's the only one who knows how to help Vincent."

"I'm not so sure I want his help," Vincent muttered dejectedly. "And why does he want to help me? He doesn't seem like a guy that works for free."

Catherine nodded. "I agree, but we don't really have another option right now."

Vincent had nothing to say to that and settled with running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"So… what, we just do whatever he says and keep an eye on him," JT asked with a note of annoyance. "If what you told me on the phone is true, and he's really like Vincent, you and I don't stand a chance against him. What if his guidance only makes Vincent worse?"

Catherine couldn't think of an answer to that; honestly, that was what she feared most. But just as she was formulating the words, Alec was suddenly bounding up the stairs again.

"You expecting company," he asked.

"Company?" As soon as the word left her mouth, she saw Vincent stiffen, and soon there was the sound of tires pulling up to the warehouse.

"Who could that be," JT mumbled as he turned for the stairs. No one wanted to answer that question.

As they waited with baited breath, Catherine's gaze found Vincent's and she knew their worry was the same. Was this the men from Muirfield again? But as the sound of a tiny fist banging on the door reached their ears, a new worry flitted through their minds.

"Heather," they heard JT ask in confusion. "H-how did you know where I live?"

"That's the perk of having a sister on the force. I had her partner find you. She seems to think it's odd that you and Catherine are still talking. And speaking of odd, you have some explaining to do. You can start by telling me why my sister's car is parked outside your warehouse."

Her car! Catherine's hand smacked her head out of frustration. How could they have been so stupid as to have not hidden her car or parked it somewhere else?

"Well… that's kind of a funny story," JT began with a trembling voice and Catherine knew she'd have to step in at some point.

"Really, because I thought you two were just friends and she's supposed to be at the cabin, but if she's been staying here the whole time, does that mean you're not just friends? And if so, why have you been spending so much time with me," Heather rambled and Catherine could clearly discern the hurt in her rant.

"I have to tell her something," Catherine voiced, turning for the stairs.

"Wait, I have an idea," Alec called. "It might help your friend get lucky."

With a malicious smile, he took hold of Catherine hand – earning him an enraged look from Vincent – and led her down the stairs.

"Heather," Catherine called as they made it to the bottom. Alec threw his arm around her shoulder and she fought the urge to knock it off.

"Uh… Cat. What… who…" Heather seemed at a loss for words as she took in her proximity to Alec and finally locked eyes with JT.

"Your sister seems to have forgotten her manners," Alec began, shooting a mischievous sideways glance in Catherine's direction. "I'm Alec, her boyfriend."

Heather's mouth was now hanging open in shock and as she collected herself, Catherine took the opportunity to stomp on Alec's foot… hard. He winced for only a moment and rolled his eyes.

"Heather, I'm sorry I didn't mention… Alec. It's not really that serious, and–," Catherine began, but Heather was quick to cut her off.

"I can't believe you held out on me like that! Didn't you promise to tell me if it was anything that interesting?"

"I know, I did. I can explain everything."

"Oh, you will. So, you lied about going to the cabin to spend time here with him?"

"No. I did go to the cabin, but… it was just so cold up there. So… I came back today. I was going to call you."

"Yeah, I bet you were. I have to get back to work, but we are not finished! And you," she rounded on JT, who winced. "I'm sorry I overreacted. But you still owe me an explanation for why I lied for you."

Before JT could answer, Catherine came up with something fast. "That's my fault too. You see, he can't say anything. Its police business and it's important that he not say a thing."

"Uh, what she said," JT confirmed. "But I swear, if it wasn't for how scary your sister is, I'd tell you everything."

Heather actually had a smile for him, but it quickly turned into a grimace as she fixed stares with Catherine again. "Fine, JT, you're forgiven. And I'm sorry for the monster that is my sister."

"Maybe I can make it up to you. Dinner, this weekend," JT asked, turning very red in the face. Catherine was amazed to see that Heather was smiling in a way she hadn't done since high school.

"That would be great. But, how about breakfast on Sunday?"

"Sounds perfect."

Heather turned to go, but stopped abruptly in her tracks. "Oh, Cat, I almost forgot. Dad wants to have supper at his house on Saturday night. Apparently, Brooke wants to test out the new menu for the reception. And she wants to do a final dress fitting. I was going to go alone, but since your back, I guess you can go with me. Unless you have another lie for getting out of this one."

Heather glared at her and Catherine felt a very defined crack run up through her heart.

"I'll be there," she promised, dropping her gaze and wishing it was Vincent's arm around her right now instead of Alec's.

With a nod of her head, Heather turned and was gone, allowing all of them to breath fully again.

"That wasn't so bad," JT admitted, smiling broadly.

"Maybe not for you," Catherine muttered, shoving Alec away from her and turning for the stairs, only to see Vincent standing there, not meeting her gaze.

"Sorry about that," Catherine apologized with a pointed look at Alec. "It would have been nice to know the plan before, that way I could have turned it down."

"Hey, it got JT a date. What's the big deal," Alec protested, plopping down on the couch in front of the big screen.

Vincent didn't say a word, but Catherine could tell he was fighting the instinct to rip Alec's head off.

"Just so you know, we have officially broken up," she clarified, storming up the stairs.

She heard no sound of footsteps behind her, but when she turned around, Vincent was there.

"I'm really sorry about him. I had no idea he–"

"It was a good idea," Vincent allowed, moving around the debris scattered in the floor to his bed and sitting on it with his head in his hands. "JT's off the hook and Heather won't ask any more questions. It's what we all wanted. I'm just sorry she's so mad at you."

"Yeah, me too. But… are you sure you're okay? You know that I wish you could have been my alibi."

"I know. But I can't. You'll never be able to tell your sister about us. You can never confide in her."

"I knew that when I met you. Vincent it's–"

"It's more than that. The wedding you're dad's planning, you'll never have that with me. I can never buy you a ring and propose. I can't give you a wedding or kids or a house. This is my life and if you stay you'll be doomed to this too."

Catherine let out a long sigh and took a seat beside him on the bed. This had to end now!

"Vincent, I don't care about that. I want to be with you! Only you! And I want that no matter what I have to put up with."

"Even if I end up killing you?" His eyes were trained on the floor, but she could see the pain on his features. He was still thinking about what he'd done last night.

"You won't kill me."

"You also thought I'd never hurt you."

"Vincent, you weren't yourself. You had no control over what you were doing. I trust you!"

"Well, you shouldn't!"

"I do!" Catherine was now on her feet, looking down at him with such intensity, she didn't understand how he couldn't believe her.

"Catherine… I'm just too dangerous. This won't–" But he never had a chance to finish that sentence.

She brought her lips down on his with such force and surprise he was pushed back on the bed and she quickly climbed on top of him, leaving no question of her feelings. His arms wrapped around her back as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer.

She didn't care about what he couldn't give her. He was all she wanted and as her lips moved against his, she knew that her excuse wasn't just that she cared about him. That wasn't a strong enough description. When she was with him, she was willing to be reckless and irrational. It no longer mattered what the rest of the world thought about her or what she had to do to keep him safe – and in that instant, she was sure she'd do anything!

No, simply caring about him wasn't the truth anymore, and as the words finally filled her head, she had to make them known. He had to understand.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, pulling up just enough to gaze into his eyes. For a moment, he simply stared at her, stunned. But then his hand came up to stroke her face and she found herself on her back with him hovering over her.

This new kiss was intense, more passionate than anything she'd ever experienced. He didn't need to say the words back, she could feel them in the urgency of his lips and in the way his hands explored her, as if they wanted to memorize every curve.

Before she was ready, he pulled away, but hovered just inches above her, a smile on his face.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that. I love you so much… even if you are crazy."

And in a way, she figured they both were, but she wouldn't go back to being sane for anything in the world.

**A/N:** Not a lot of action in this chapter, but it's coming. Please let me know what you think!


	11. Slipping Into Madness

**A/N:** I'm sorry for not responding to many of the reviews. I want to thank everyone for all the congratulations and support about my pregnancy! It was really sweet of you!

Chapter 11: Slipping Into Madness

This felt absolutely insane. Why had he even agreed to this?

Vincent couldn't help but question his sanity as he sat across the table from Catherine, trying desperately to bring forth the beast. Nothing happened.

"Maybe you should try it with your eyes closed. You know, really focus on what's inside," Catherine suggested.

"Or, maybe I'm just an idiot for listening to Alec."

They'd been at this for the better part of three days with no results. Vincent just couldn't find that switch inside him that would release the monster. It was something that was so easy when he was angry.

"You're not listening to Alec. He recommended that we be a lot closer than this."

"We're close enough."

"There's a table between us," Catherine pointed out.

"For your safety. I have no idea what I'll do if I turn."

"Well, I don't think you're going to turn unless we play on your emotions. You have to admit you're bored right now. You'll never get that adrenaline rush with me all the way over here."

Vincent shoved off from the table in frustration and began running his hands through his hair. Why was he the only one who saw what a bad idea this was? He was sitting across from the girl he loved trying to lose control and unleash a killer. In what world did that sound acceptable?

"You're being too hard on yourself. Just, stop thinking so much," Catherine suggested, standing from the table too.

"Catherine, if I don't get this under control I could hurt you or someone else and I have no control over that. How am I supposed to stop thinking?!"

"Okay… how about a break? You've barely eaten all day. I'll make some sandwiches."

He nodded and sank down on his bed while she headed towards the stairs. In the back of his mind, he knew the problem – he was terrified of hurting her. He was so scared in fact that it was hindering every effort he put into releasing the beast within. But it was a logical fear. He knew what he was capable of. She could be dead in a matter of seconds!

He shuddered at the thought of her lifeless body lying in a puddle of blood at his feet. Catherine was right, he was thinking too much. Taking several deep breaths, he tried clearing his head, focusing on his breathing… in out… in out… in–

Something dripped on his face. His eyes shot open, staring up at the ceiling in search of a water leak. But as he stared, something crimson started spreading across the roof, dropping bright red droplets on his bed.

Completely freaked out, he jumped up, only to realize every wall was splattered with blood as well.

"This isn't real," he told himself, closing his eyes and willing the delusion to go away.

"Not pretty, is it," a voice asked… a voice he hadn't heard in ten years.

"Ray," he asked, opening his eyes wide to take in the sight of his old army buddy. "This doesn't make any sense. Alec said the hallucinations would only be of people I'd killed."

"Oh, you killed me. And to think I might have made it home to see my girlfriend."

"No. I… it wasn't me! That was Muirfield. They–"

"You don't remember, do you? And you thought the memory loss was a new symptom," Ray taunted, pacing the floor in a slow circle around him.

"What are you talking about? It is new."

"She's special to you, isn't she? Catherine," Ray asked, looking briefly towards the stairs. Vincent didn't answer, just stared at his dead friend. "Think back, Vincent. Think back to our time in Afghanistan. It was kind of a blur, wasn't it? After we got that shot. Sometimes, the animal inside would be so intense, we'd lose time. Couldn't remember where we'd been all night."

Vincent searched his brain, struggling to remember the darkest period of his life. He recalled every emotion. The fear, the panic, the rage. When he was angry, he'd lose all control, destroying entire villages.

"But, I remember every attack we made," Vincent voiced, wincing at every bloody detail.

"Every attack? Think, Vincent! Really think. There were times. It happened to all of us."

Vincent was about to protest again, but something came back to him then. He and Ray… arguing. Ray had killed one of their commanding officers, someone Vincent was good friends with. He remembered being so angry at Ray, so angry…

"We had a fight," he muttered, looking back to his friend.

"We did. Right before you killed me."

Vincent shook his head back and forth slowly, hoping to shake this new victim from his head. "No, I… I didn't mean to. I never wanted to hurt you."

"You never meant to hurt anyone. After all, it wasn't you. It was me."

Now he was completely confused, but as he looked at his friend, his face transformed… skin growing paler, muscles more defined… until he stood staring at himself – or, at least the monster he was on the inside.

"You're not real. This isn't real," Vincent chanted, backing away from the grotesque version.

"Oh, it's more than real. This is who you are now. Stop fighting it."

"No! You won't win!"

"Vincent," Catherine's voice called, and instantly he locked his fists by his sides, forcing himself not to act to end his delusion again. "Vincent, what's going on? Are you okay?"

As her voice came closer, he finally found her standing in front of him. She had a look of extreme worry on her beautiful features and she was coming closer. He backed away, terrified of what he could do to her right now.

Looking over her shoulder, he saw the monster standing there, eyeing her greedily, along with Ray who simply seemed fearful.

"Vincent, look at me. Whatever you're seeing right now, it's not real," Catherine promised him, but he couldn't take his eyes off the visions behind her. Maybe if he kept watch on them, they couldn't hurt her.

"Vincent, look at me," she commanded again, this time placing her hands on either side of his face. Finally, his eyes found hers and he forced himself not to look away. "Just stay focused on me. Nothing else you see is real. Okay? You're okay."

He clung to her words, only allowing himself to see her face, her angelic smile, her soft eyes. His breathing became steadier and his body relaxed. It was a magic only she could work.

"It's okay," she chanted again, rubbing soothing circles into his cheeks with her thumbs. And it was okay. In his world now there was only her. Nothing else. Just her. The delusions had gone.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, wishing he could wrap his arms around her, but afraid of even touching her now.

Thankfully, she didn't share his fear. In seconds, her arms were around his torso with her head lying on his chest.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. We'll find a way to help you. I promise."

Hesitantly, his arms enclosed around her as he buried his face in her hair. Somehow, just the scent of her chased away every nightmare he had. He was sane again, he was whole.

"I killed Ray," he finally blurted out, hearing the shock in his own voice.

"What?"

"My friend, Ray, from the army. I killed him. That was who I saw just now. And then I saw myself… as a monster. Alec was right, he wants to break free."

"Someone mention my name," Alec asked, finally strolling upstairs.

"Where have you been," Catherine yelled, releasing Vincent and advancing on him.

"I take it things didn't go well?"

"I had another hallucination," Vincent explained, feeling the anger rise in him. "You were supposed to be here. You're supposed to make sure she doesn't get hurt."

"She looks _fine_ to me," Alec appraised, eyes raking up and down her body. Vincent pushed her behind him, glaring at the man before him.

"Yeah, and that's sheer luck. Where were you?"

"You people have no food. I went out for a bite."

"And left Catherine here alone with me," Vincent raged.

"Hey, it doesn't seem like she minds. In fact, I think she prefers it that way. And maybe, if you'd listen to me and try to let yourself go when she's close, it would solve all our problems."

"Somehow, I just don't trust you," Vincent spat back. In that moment, he was so angry he was sure the beast would break through if he only allowed it. It would be so easy right now; he could feel the monster just beneath the surface.

"You really want to fight me? Here, now, with Catherine standing less than a foot away," Alec taunted, his lips turning up in a cruel smile.

Vincent took several deep breaths, forcing himself to remain calm. Of course he couldn't fight with her so close… no matter how much he wanted to.

"Besides, don't you have something with your dad you're supposed to be at soon," Alec asked, directing the question to Catherine.

"Supper," she answered simply, still eyeing Vincent and Alec warily.

"You should go ahead then. I think Vincent's had enough for one day."

But she didn't move, not until the muscles in Vincent's neck finally relaxed and the turned to her. "He's right. We can try again tomorrow."

"Are you sure you're okay," she asked, reaching up to brush the hair from his face.

"I'll live. Just be careful tonight." He gave her a meaningful look and she knew exactly what he was thinking. They hadn't disclosed to Alec yet that her dad might be part of Muirfield and didn't plan to. But tonight she had the opportunity to seek out the truth for herself.

"Always. I'll come by when it's over."

"Actually, I was kinda hoping to come to your place. I've seen enough of this warehouse."

"That sounds promising," Alec teased, listening rapturously to their conversation. Catherine rolled her eyes and reached up on her toes to drop a sweet kiss to Vincent's lips.

"I'll see you soon," she promised, before disappearing down the stairs.

"You gonna eat that," Alec asked, pointing to the sandwiches that were now lying forgotten on the table.

"I thought you said you just ate. Besides, I doubt JT wants to take in another freeloader."

"Fine. Well, since I'm not confined to this dingy warehouse, I'm going out to look for some fun. Enjoy your prison."

With that, Alec strode out, leaving Vincent with only one thought… how nice it would feel to finally snap his neck!

~BATB~

"Catherine! I'm so glad you could make it tonight," Mr. Chandler called, wrapping his daughter in a hug.

"Yeah, me too." She tried to put a little enthusiasm in her voice, but she just wasn't feeling it.

"Well, come in. Heather and Brooke are in the sitting room looking over the dresses."

She let her dad lead the way, all the while taking in his estate. The house was well in the million dollar range within a stuffy gated community. It was amazing considering the small two bedroom apartment she'd grown up in. His excuse had always been, "business is good," but something just never sat right with her. And now that she was looking at this with a new pair of eyes, she'd spotted exactly what it was – he'd came into all this money after her mother's death.

She knew for a fact that the life insurance policy wasn't anything to brag about, so what was it? Or was she just obsessing.

"Cat, you made it," Brooke trilled as they entered the sitting room. "What do you think? I went with a soft pink, ankle length, still sleeveless."

Brooke indicated the bridesmaid's dress lying over the back of the sofa.

"It's perfect. I love it." Again, she regretted that there wasn't more enthusiasm in her voice and tried to make her smile a little wider.

"If it's okay with the bride-to-be, I say we get started on dinner. I can't wait to taste the meal you picked for the reception," Mr. Chandler offered, putting his arm around Brooke and leading the way into the dining room.

Thankfully, the lobster and steak was delicious and there wasn't much to say around mouthfuls besides how impeccable the food was. Heather put her two cents in on how well the meal would go with the wedding cake and champagne, but Catherine was too preoccupied with her purpose for the night. How exactly did you ask your dad if he was part of a secret government operation responsible for turning soldiers into killing machines?

"By the way, how's your… uh, your injury," Mr. Chandler asked, motioning towards Catherine's stomach.

"Howie," Brook scolded, "you don't have to bring that up now."

"I'm just concerned."

"Don't worry about it. It's fine. I'm fine, I mean," Catherine babbled. "It really feels a lot better."

"Good."

She felt like a total idiot, but every time she looked at him, she just couldn't help wondering if he'd been lying to her all this time.

"Cat, are you sure you're feeling okay," Brooke asked, eyeing her worriedly.

"Yeah. I just… well, no. I'm not really feeling that great. Maybe I'm coming down with something. Mind if I step outside for some air," she asked, noticing how the suspicion was alight on Heather's face. At least she was the only one.

"Of course not. Do you want some company," her dad offered.

"No thanks. I'll be right back."

She smiled as she left the table and held it until she was out in the hall, but instead of making for the front door, she dashed up the stairs. Her father's study was the first door on the right and naturally, it was closed… but not locked.

Quietly, she slipped inside, surveying the typical home office before her. Time was of the essence, so she quickly got to work digging through the files on his desk. Surprising, there was only three, and they had nothing to do with cases. They were surveillance photos… of her.

There were pictures of her at work, in her car, talking on the phone in her apartment. How long had her dad had someone following her? She was frantic now as she combed through every picture, but not a single one depicted her with Vincent or at the warehouse. That was a relief. There were only two actual pictures of her at home, so if they were looking for Vincent, they clearly didn't expect him to show up at her place.

She tossed the pictures back on the desk, pulling open every drawer. There was a folder of contacts, but no names she recognized. It would be nice to find something labeled "Muirfield" or "Vincent Keller" but nothing else seemed unusual.

Maybe her father was just that worried about her? She scoffed at herself for such a ridiculous idea. But when she stopped to think what the pictures had to mean – coupled with the ring and his friendship to Silverfox – she was left with a feeling of utter emptiness and disgust. How could both her parents be involved in something so awful? And how could they lie to her about it?

Checking her watch, she knew it was time to get back downstairs before they started to worry about her and was just surveying the study when the door swung open.

She froze completely and was surprised to see someone that was not her dad or Brooke standing before her. It was a man in his mid to late thirties with perfectly cropped blond hair.

"Can I help you," he asked.

"Um… I was just up here looking for some paper and a pen. Just got a call from my partner," she lied quickly, shutting the drawer and grabbing a pen.

"Wait, you're Howard's daughter, right? The cop?"

"Catherine. And you are…"

"Artie. Artie Shane. I'm a partner at her father's firm. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't want anyone in here; including his curious little girl."

"Little girl? Okay, I haven't been called that since middle school. Besides, I doubt he'll mind."

"If you say so. What'd you think of the pictures?" He motioned to the folders on the desk and his friendly smile turned malicious.

"Since you brought it up, why's my dad been having me followed?"

"Oh, I think you know." He stepped closer, coming around the desk and stopping just inches away. "Word of advice, keep your nose out of other people's business… if you know what's good for you. He might be your father, but he can't protect you from everyone."

"And, what exactly isn't my business? The fact that my father isn't really a lawyer," she asked, refusing to allow this man to intimidate her.

"You just can't stay out of it, can you?" He stepped even closer, until she could feel his breath fan across her face, but she didn't back down, and maybe she should have. It wasn't like she was hiding many weapons in this little black dress and with a bad arm and stitches across her abdomen, she wasn't in any position to put up a good fight.

"You know, actually," he continued, his eyes glinting nastily, "maybe you could give your boyfriend a message for us."

"Boyfriend? I don't know who you mean," she faked.

"Oh, I think you do."

She waited for whatever he wanted to say, but instead of words, his fist came flying out, making contact with her stomach. After the surprise, there was excruciating pain. He'd clearly known just where to hit her. She doubled over, clutching her stomach and fighting the urge to cry out.

"Don't forget, we can always get to you."

"I take it… your n-not… a partner in… my dad's law f-firm," she stammered as she gritted her teeth against the pain.

He only smiled again.

"If I were you, I wouldn't mention this little meeting to anyone, and I won't tell your dad you were up here snooping."

She didn't exactly believe him, but also didn't want to think of the consequences if she didn't follow his orders now. Without a backwards glance, he strode out of the study.


	12. What I Need

**A/N:** Just a warning for younger readers, this chapter gets a little steamy, but I tried to keep it well within the range of T rating. Thanks for all the encouraging reviews; they really brighten my day!

Chapter 12: What I Need

Catherine had no idea how she even made it home. Her stomach was throbbing. She'd been too scared to check the damage for herself and had simply hoped it wasn't as bad as it felt.

Opening the door to her apartment, she reveled in the opportunity to let the mask slip away and allow the pain to show on her face. As the door swung closed, she let loose a small gasp and sank down on the couch.

"Catherine," Vincent's voice called, startling her. "What's wrong?"

"We were right. My dad's with Muirfield," she explained, pausing to take in a gulp of air through clenched teeth.

"He attacked you?!"

"No; it was his assistant. He punched me in the stomach."

For a moment, she saw the yellow glint in his eyes as his face began to change, but he was back under control in a matter of seconds.

"Why?"

"He… he was sending you a message. I guess to tell you he can get to me. His name was Artie Shane."

"Shane? As in the same agent that questioned JT?"

"I think so."

Gently, Vincent's hands eased her back on the couch and he lifted her shirt. Blood had already seeped through the bandage, but it wasn't as much as she'd expected. So softly that she barely felt it, he lifted the bandage off to examine her stitches.

"They're not ripped; the wound's mostly healed. But it did pull them. The bleeding should stop soon, but I need to put on a fresh bandage," he explained. The sound of his voice relaxed her, easing her pain and allowing her muscles to relax.

He left, but was back in a matter of seconds with antiseptic and bandages, lightly working over her.

"I never should have let you go by yourself," he murmured, barely controlling the anger in his voice.

"Vincent, there's no way you can make this your fault. Besides, you said yourself it wasn't that bad."

"How did you figure it out," he asked. She could tell he was trying to keep her mind off her abdomen.

"I was snooping through his office. He had all these surveillance pictures of me." His eyes found her face and she knew what he was thinking. "They were mostly of me at work. None of the warehouse. Only a couple were of me here."

"Why would he only have you followed at work," Vincent asked, returning to his work.

"Well, if you think about it, I found your fingerprints on a case. Maybe he doesn't know that we've met. Maybe he's just worried about me finding out something I shouldn't."

"Or… maybe he thinks I'm a lot smarter than I am. Logically, why would I leave my hiding place to come to your apartment where I could be seen?"

"Because you hate living in a box. You ran from Muirfield to get your freedom back, to stay alive. Being cooped up inside a prison isn't living," she ranted, realizing she was getting worked up.

"Catherine, I'm not trying to talk myself out of seeing you," he explained, his lips twitching up in a smirk. "I'm just pointing out the fact that I'm an idiot, not that I mind."

"So… you're not about to leave me for my own good and disappear into the night?"

"No." He finished applying her bandage and the smile slowly slipped from his face. There was more he wanted to say, but instead of drilling him with questions, she merely waited.

"You should take it easy, give your skin a chance to heal."

He took a seat beside her and she quirked an eyebrow, letting him know he could continue.

"JT was right," he began, "when he said I couldn't leave for good… not anymore. I love you, Catherine, and it's pretty clear you're already on Muirfield's radar no matter what Silverfox said. Me leaving isn't going to do any good. They'll take you and torture you until they break you and I won't let that happen! The only way I can protect you is if I'm here."

"Not that I like being treated as the damsel in distress, but I'm glad you're not trying to leave. I don't think I could survive it." Neither of them could.

"So, what do we do about my dad," she asked, desperately wanting to change the subject. "Do I confront him?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea. If he really doesn't know how involved you are, we should leave him in the dark. _I_ wouldn't mind confronting this Shane guy."

"Vincent, you can't! And the way phony assistant Shane talked, I doubt he's in the dark at all. If… if my dad is on to you… what's your plan of action? You said you couldn't leave for good, but it might not be safe here much longer."

Vincent reached up, softly stroking her cheek while he thought through his answer.

"Honestly, I don't know anymore," he explained.

She waited for more, but instead he simply leaned in and kissed her. His lips were urgent, needy. The feel that all this could be falling apart, that Muirfield could swoop in and take him away from her at any second increased her already vital need for him and she rose up on her knees on the couch, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She was so consumed in his lips that she barely registered how she was suddenly in his lap, but he held her close, melding their bodies together. All the craziness of the last few days was slipping into the background until there was only him. His lips left hers and hungrily made their way down her throat, his hands slipping up under her dress and lifting it over her head. His lips made their way from her throat to her swell of her breasts and she felt herself growing warm, burning for him.

Her own hands made quick work of his shirt and the feel of his skin on hers was nearly overwhelming.

"Vincent," she breathed as he unclasped her bra.

His lips found their way back to hers and he carried them to the bedroom, laying her beneath him. As his hands roamed her body, she realized he wasn't being his usual gentle self. He was frantic and intense, but it only fueled her passion more.

There was a ripping sound as his hands found her panties and the realization that he'd torn them off her body seemed to bring him back down to earth.

"Catherine… we need to stop," he whispered huskily, backing off her and standing up beside the bed.

She could tell his eyes were fighting not to take in her naked body.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?"

He turned his back on her and began pacing, closing his eyes and gripping his head.

"I haven't done this in over ten years."

"It's been a while for me too."

"That's not what I'm worried about," he explained, finally stopping in the middle of her room and glancing down at her. "What if I lose control? You heard Alec, pleasure can fuel the beast too. I could hurt you and–"

Catherine jumped up and pressed her lips to his, effectively cutting off his protest.

"I shouldn't be here anyway," he tried again, though from his tone he knew it was a losing battle. "I still haven't been able to control the black outs and hallucinations. No one's here to help you if I lose it and–"

"I have a feeling I can keep you here with me – in your right mind."

She gave him her most seductive smile, which was pretty pathetic considering she wasn't normally the seducing type, but it seemed to be working. Her hands found his belt buckle and began loosening it while her lips worked at his neck, kissing a trail down his chest. A guttural growl left his throat and she wished she could rip his pants off too, just to get to him faster.

He helped her with the zipper and soon he stood as naked as she did. Catherine couldn't help but gawk at his body, letting her hands explore.

Gently this time, he lowered her back on the bed and climbed on top of her, taking care to pleasure every inch of her. It was a slow burning fire that was always on the verge of exploding, but it was a pace they were both comfortable with. Neither wanted it to end!

When he was finally inside her, she felt the last piece of her world come together. It didn't matter what obstacles there were to overcome. He was worth all that and more. She couldn't bear to live without him; she would die.

When they finally tumbled over that blissful edge together, she felt more amazing than ever in her entire life.

"So much for taking it easy," she quipped, smiling over at him from where he laid beside her.

"You're sure I didn't hurt you?"

"You were perfect. Amazing!"

The smile on his face now was cocky – which was a look she didn't know he possessed. He was always so selfless and caring. If possible, it turned her on all over again, but he'd literally worn her body out. All she was capable of was falling asleep in his arms.

"Will you stay," she asked, snuggling closer to him.

"I wish. I promised JT I'd be back. He doesn't think it's safe for me to be alone with you for long. I don't either. But I don't like leaving you _here_ alone. You… you could come back to the warehouse with me."

"Vincent, I'll be fine. Besides, Heather will be home soon and it will look weird if I'm not here after telling my dad I didn't feel well."

Vincent pulled her closer to him, resting his face in her hair.

"I can stay until you fall asleep," he offered.

"I'd love that."

He dropped one last kiss to her forehead, muttering, "I love you," as she drifted off to sleep.

~BATB~

She knew it wasn't yet morning, but something had woken her suddenly. Opening her eyes slowly, Catherine surveying her room from where she lay on her side. All seemed quiet, but a hand came out of the darkness to slowly stroke her arm.

"Vincent? I thought you had to leave. Did you fall asleep," she asked, rolling over to face him, only to see–

"Alec?! What are you doing," she shrieked, shoving his hand away. She realized with a start that she was still naked under the sheets.

"I just wanted to ask how dinner with you father went, though I didn't expect such a pleasant surprise."

He smirked as his eyes raked over the sheet and she felt an intense urge to slap him.

"You came here in the middle of the night to ask me how dinner went? Why?"

"Catherine, can we stop pretending you don't know about your dad?" He eyed her maliciously, waiting for her to rise to the bait.

"What do you know about that?"

"Only that he's with Muirfield. In fact, he's not even a lawyer."

The desire to slap him again was there, but more than anything she wished he'd simply leave so she could get dressed. He was uncomfortably close to her and his hand had strayed down beside her leg.

"How do you know that? Did Vincent tell you?"

"I told you, Cat; I know the guys that run the program. Your dad happens to be at the top of the game."

"What? No, you've got to be wrong. My dad wouldn't–"

"Your dad wouldn't but your mom would?"

At the mention of her mother she took in a stunned gasp of air. "How do you know about my mother?"

"Okay, this line of questioning is getting really old, really fast. For the last time, I know these people! Okay? Besides, I'm really not here for twenty questions."

"Then why are you here?"

He slid closer to her on the bed, causing her to hike the sheet up more. One more inch and she would slap that smile right off his face.

"I have a confession. I didn't actually track you guys down because I wanted to find Vincent. I was looking for you."

"Me? Why me?"

"That is a topic for another day, but what you need to know now is that I need something from you."

"Like what?"

"I need you to do me a favor. And you can't tell Vincent! Understand?"

She was liking this less and less by the second. From the moment she'd met Alec there had been something she just didn't trust, but right now, as his eyes glinted dangerously in the dark, she was scared. This was a man she couldn't fight off, and who, unlike Vincent, didn't have qualms with hurting her.

"Why can't I tell Vincent?"

"Trust me, you don't want to bring him into this. What we're about to do could certainly land us on Muirfield's radar and I'm pretty sure you don't want that for him."

"And what makes you think I'll do anything for you?"

He held her gaze, shifting on the bed and running his fingers down her cheek. She was completely frozen.

"Like you could refuse. Besides, if it turned into a fight between me and Vincent, there'd definitely be blood. Can you really handle seeing the love of your life hurt?"

Warm tears were just brimming her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. He had her there; she'd never do anything to endanger Vincent.

"Fine; what do you want," she asked, managing to keep the tremble out of her voice.

"I'll let you know. For now, let's keep this late night visit to ourselves."

He sprang off the bed, but spun around and leaned over her, faces just inches apart.

"By the way, you might want to be a little more careful," he warned.

"Careful?"

"I can smell him on you and in the sheets. Just because we're genetically altered killing machines doesn't mean we can't breed."

With one last smirk, he disappeared in a blur through her open window.

~BATB~

JT wasn't sure he'd ever laughed and smiled so much in his life. He was sitting across from Heather in a breakfast café, listening to her complain about her sister. Not that he could agree with every complaint she had, but he just loved being here with her.

"and then she's suddenly sick and has to go home," she continued, rolling her eyes. "It's so obvious; she just wanted to get away from Dad and Brooke. I think she might have really hurt their feelings. She's always doing stuff like that. Making up stupid excuses to brush people off. Like, I know what she went through was terrible, but she really has to move on. She was doing so much better. I was excited when I thought she was just sneaking off to see that Alec guy, but she told me last night they broke up. Why?"

"Let's just say he was all wrong for her."

"But… she was happy with him for a long time, right? For weeks she just had this glow about her, like she'd met this amazing guy. Maybe it was someone else."

"Maybe," JT replied, keeping the eye roll to himself. He really needed a subject change. "How was the rest of dinner, aside from your sister?"

"It was okay, I guess. It's weird to watch Dad make goo-goo eyes at someone for hours, but they were both so happy. And the dresses actually didn't suck. I was afraid she would put me in like maroon or something with a big poofy bodice and lace and..." Heather shuddered at the thought.

"I think you could have pulled it off. Maybe with a hat," JT joked, watching the giggle erupt from her.

"I'd look like a plum."

"And you could stand by the buffet line to advertise the food." Even he was laughing now, but just at the sound of her bell-like chuckles.

"I really appreciate you meeting me for breakfast like this," she thanked. "It's just so nice to laugh and get away from everything."

"Well, I'm glad to be of assistance."

Heather pushed the food around on her plate, not meeting his eyes and he had a feeling which line of questioning was coming next.

"I know Cat said not to tell me… and I'm not angry with you in the slightest… but… can you tell me _any_ of your secrets? I promise, I won't tell anyone."

JT sighed, wishing he could confide in her, but knowing it was impossible.

"I just want to know if you and my sister are involved in anything dangerous. Or… maybe something to do with my dad."

"You dad?" He was completely thrown off by that. How did she know they thought there was something fishy about her dad?

"I think Catherine was in his study last night. I went up there to get a tie for my dad. Brooke wanted to hold it up to her dress and see if it matched and when I got up there… I heard voices arguing. It sounded like Catherine and some guy. She… she thought Dad wasn't actually a lawyer or something and he said he wanted her to take a message to her boyfriend. I left after that, but it just sounded so weird. Why would Catherine think our dad wasn't really a lawyer? What did she think he went to Princeton for?"

"Heather… I really want to tell you everything, but I can't. And you have to stay out of this. Please," JT begged.

"It's something dangerous, isn't it? And Dad's involved too?"

He didn't respond, but his silence told her everything.

"Okay, look, this has to do with my whole family. I can't just stay out of it. If you won't tell me… I'll go to Dad and ask him. Or maybe I'll just snoop through his study like Cat did."

"No, you can't do that! I'm serious; you can't get involved." Impulsively, he'd taken her hand, willing her to see how important this was. She just stared at him, intertwining their hands together and finally, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

At first, he froze completely, too shocked to react. But then his lips began to work against hers, and it felt as if fireworks were going off in his head. When she pulled away, there was a smug smile on her face.

"Just so you know, I'm very good at persuasion. I'll get the truth out of you sooner or later," she teased, going back to her breakfast.

What had he gotten himself into?


	13. The Key

**A/N:** I am so sorry for taking so long to update. With Christmas, everything has been so crazy. Happy, but crazy. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait, and thanks again to all who reviewed the last chapter!

Chapter 13: The Key

It all happened so fast.

It was Monday morning and Vincent was searching for that switch again, the one that would shut him off from his body and allow a monster to take control. JT was there with his tranquilizer gun while Catherine watched. Alec sat at the table reading the paper and looking bored.

Catherine had just been on her way over to slap the paper out of his hands when something changed. JT had made a joke about how stupid Vincent looked trying to "beast out" when Vincent dropped to his knees on the floor.

Concerned, she and JT had rushed over, but Vincent's growl had them taking a step back. In seconds, he was in a crouch, glaring murderously at JT.

"We were just joking. He was happy… I think. You said he wouldn't hurt anybody, right," JT mumbled, backing away from Vincent.

"Yeah, I don't think this is voluntary," Alec explained, standing from the desk, but making no move to stop Vincent.

"What are you doing? Get over there," Catherine shouted, followed by JT's, "hurry!"

But Alec didn't move and Vincent lunged for JT, sending him into the wall in surprise. The tranquilizer gun flew from his hand and a sickening thud filled the warehouse as his head collided with the wall.

"Vincent, stop," Catherine shouted, preparing to place herself in front of JT, but Alec wrenched her back.

"You can't approach him like that! Do you want to lose an arm?"

"Then _you_ do something! Isn't that why you're here?!"

Vincent shifted his gaze to her and Alec, sending a shiver down her spine as his angry yellow eyes raked over her. This was nothing like the other times she'd seen him transform. She saw no recognition anywhere on his face, no sign that he knew her at all.

He was shifting into a crouch, preparing to attack when Alec sprung into action, landing a kick to Vincent's side that sent him flying across the room.

"Stop him, don't hurt him," Catherine screamed, but Vincent was only down for a second.

This time, he came at Alec so fast, there was no time to prepare a defense. Alec flew into the table, breaking it in two, and when he came back to his feet, his face resembled Vincent's.

While they fought, Catherine searched for the tranquilizer gun, knowing it was her only shot at stopping Vincent and Alec, but a sudden roar stopped her.

"No," Alec growled. "Just talk to him!"

Alec lunged for Vincent, but he dodged him, springing up over his head and landing a solid kick in his back.

"Vincent, stop," Catherine yelled. "Please, just listen to me! You know me!"

Vincent's gaze turned from Alec, who had paused mid-attack, to Catherine who stood with her arms at her side, completely defenseless. At first, she thought she saw the man she loved coming back to her, but then the monster's sneer was back and she felt the cold, solid wall at her back before she registered how it happened.

Vincent was pressing her to the wall… but not attacking. His face was just as gruesome as ever, but his eyes studied her.

"Vincent, I love you. Please come back to me," she pleaded, cautiously bringing her hands up to cup his face.

Ever so slowly, his eyes returned back to their soft brown and the deep veins in his face receded.

"Vincent," she breathed, smiling up at him.

"Catherine… I'm so sorry. What did I–"

But a sudden groan from the opposite wall cut him off and they turned to see JT shakily lifting his head.

"Did… did I do that to him," Vincent asked, taking a shaky step back from Catherine.

She ran to JT, helping him stand up and make it to a chair.

"That hurt," JT quipped. "And I'm pretty sure I have a concussion."

Vincent slowly made his way to JT, but seemed hesitant to get too close. "JT, I am so sorry. We never should have tried this in the first place!"

And this time, Catherine agreed with him. Alec's plan clearly wasn't working and if anything, Vincent was getting worse. Wanting someone to take her frustration out on, she looked up to see Alec's retreating form.

"Vincent, stay with JT; make sure he's alright. I'll be right back," she explained, following Alec out of the warehouse.

"Where are you going?!"

"Since when is that your business," Alec argued, refusing to slow his pace.

"You're supposed to be helping him! He almost killed JT and you just stood there!"

At this, Alec wheeled back around, confronting her so fast she nearly fell backwards.

"I didn't want to attack him until I knew whether he was in control or not."

"No, you didn't want to leave my side," she stated firmly, searching his face for confirmation. His lips turned up in a sneer.

"Did that detective brain of yours finally catch onto something?"

"Yeah, it did. You were never planning on helping Vincent, were you? You need something from me."

"And what makes you think that?"

"You didn't do a thing when Vincent went after JT but the minute he came for me, you jumped into action without a second thought. You said yourself you needed a favor from me. What's so important that you pretended to help Vincent just to get to me?"

He smiled wider and took a step closer to her, stopping only when he was right in her face, and dropped his voice to a whisper.

"You'll find out tonight. Be ready at seven. And unless you want another fight, don't say a word to Vincent. Understand?"

She nodded her head, not trusting her voice, but refusing to allow him to see how frightened she was.

And then, in a blur of movement, he was gone.

For a moment, she couldn't move. Alec was taking her somewhere tonight and she had no idea what he had planned. She wanted to tell Vincent, have him follow them so it would be two against one, but that wasn't an option. Not that she thought Vincent couldn't take Alec, but he was barely in control as it was. She couldn't risk them getting in a fight if it meant Vincent might be hurt… or that he might hurt someone else.

"Catherine," Vincent called suddenly from behind her, causing her to jump. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine. How's JT," she asked, heading back into the warehouse with him beside her.

"He'll live… but what happened in there… I can't let that happen again."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna have JT lock me up. Alec's idea isn't working, and maybe if JT takes a look at me we can figure something else out."

Catherine's first instinct was to protest, but if Vincent was locked in a cage for the night, it meant he couldn't follow her… which would keep him safe.

"Vincent, I hate the idea of locking you in a cage, but if you think JT can help you, then let's do it."

~BATB~

Five minutes until seven. Catherine couldn't stop pacing the length of her room, waiting for Alec to climb through her bedroom window. Her mind raced with every horrifying scenario of where he could possibly be taking her. He'd said what he needed her to do could put them on Muirfield's radar – that would be a bad idea! The last thing she wanted to do was risk exposing Vincent in any way. But Alec was leaving her with no choice.

If she told Vincent, he'd confront Alec and there was a possibility that neither of them would walk away from that. The only other option was to go along, see just what it was he needed from her.

The doorbell rang, startling her from her thoughts and she heard Heather's breezy voice greet the guest on the other side.

"Alec, what are you doing here? I thought you and Cat broke up?"

"That's why I'm here," he responded, in a voice so silky it sent a chill down her spine. Nothing good could ever come with that voice. Quickly, she dashed out of her room and found him standing in the doorway, the cocky smirk planted firmly on his face.

"Do you want me to let him in," Heather asked nervously.

"Yeah, it's fine."

Alec stepped over the threshold, gazing around the apartment as though he'd never entered before.

"Great place you got here," he commented, smiling innocently.

"I'm not really in the mood for small talk. Let's go."

"Wait, go," Heather called, latching onto Catherine's arm. "You're going somewhere with your ex-boyfriend and you didn't tell me? Not that I'm surprised; I mean, you didn't even tell me you had a boyfriend. And now you have my possible boyfriend lying to me."

"Heather, it's not what it seems."

"No, it's fine. Can you at least tell me where you're going?"

At this, Alec smiled wider, but his eyes were malevolent. "It's a surprise. I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when we get back. It's gonna be unforgettable."

Fear shot down Catherine's spine, twisting her stomach into knots and causing her knees to go weak. It was the same kind of fear she'd felt as she watched two gunman shoot her mom nine years ago.

"Then let's go then. The quicker we leave, the quicker I can be rid of you," she spat, yanking on her coat and pushing past him to the door.

"It was nice seeing you again, Heather," he called before he followed her out.

Once they were alone in the elevator, she turned inquisitive eyes to him, studying his every facial expression.

"Why did you come to the door? Why not the window?"

"Because I'm not Vincent. I don't have to hide," he explained, looking almost anxious as they reached the bottom floor.

"Can you at least tell me where you're taking me? It's not like I can get away from you anyway."

"Sorry, babe. That's just something you'll have to figure out as we go along."

The parking deck was dark and deserted, something that only brought her worse unease and as they made it to her car, Alec spun around so suddenly she jumped. In seconds, he had her pinned to the car as his hand reached into her coat pocket and extracted her car keys.

"Now, before we leave, I just want to make one thing very clear. You do as I say, when I say it. Understand? You won't run or fight me or scream. You just follow my instructions and you'll be back at your apartment tonight, safe and sound."

"Forgive me if I don't trust you," she sneered, attempting to twist out of his grip, but it was unyielding. She was certain she'd have bruises tomorrow.

"I never said you had to trust me. And this," he extracted her back-up gun from inside her jacket, "is staying with me. You won't be needing it anyway."

Finally, he released her and opened the passenger door for her, eyeing her critically as she climbed in. Inspiration struck her as she waited for him to climb in next to her and she quickly turned on her phone, insuring it could be tracked… just in case, and slid it back into her pocket. Maybe someone would worry about her and come looking.

Alec turned the radio up and for the majority of the drive, Catherine simply took in her surroundings, trying to guess at where they could possibly be going. She knew nothing about Muirfield besides what Vincent had told her. She had no great fortune he could attempt to steal from her. So… what was it he needed her for?

They left the city all together, and as he continued to drive, she recognized the part of town they were in. It was close to the bar she'd worked at through college. The same bar her mother died at.

Confirming her fears, Alec pulled into the Salty Dawg bar, cutting the car off and stepping out without a single word.

"Why did you bring me here," Catherine asked, staring up at the neon sign that now only reflected her pain.

"I'll explain on the way."

"The way," she asked, but Alec was already striding into the woods beside the bar.

Catherine didn't follow. In fact, she was frozen to the spot. Not once in the nine years since the attack had she been back here. She had the overwhelming sensation to run as far away as she could and her eyes welled with tears.

"Are you taking in the scenery or did your legs forget how to walk," Alec called back, stopping just within the trees.

"I'm not going in there," she stated, embarrassed by the quiver in her voice.

"You do what I say, remember? I say we're going in. Now move!"

Taking a deep breath, she began to walk forward, refusing to let her thoughts dwell on the emotions that had been racing through her the last time she'd been in these woods. Instead, she filled her head with images of Vincent; his smiles, his kisses, the way he held her when they made love. It was enough to keep her calm as she walked along side Alec.

"You said you'd explain. What are we doing here," she asked.

"We're looking for a place. I haven't been here since your mother died, but I'm pretty sure I'll remember the way."

"What does my mother have to do with it?"

"I knew her. She was helping me."

"Helping you do what?"

Alec didn't answer, but kept walking. Catherine couldn't let herself take in the scenery, even if it meant she'd have no idea how to get back out.

"Why did my mom come here," she inquired. It helped to keep him talking.

"Her friend owned the bar you worked at. She let her use this land. There's a small house hidden in the woods and underneath is a bunker."

"A bunker for what?"

"It's where she kept her research. She couldn't risk anything landing in the wrong hands so Muirfield agreed to build her the bunker. After the experiments in Afghanistan were deemed a failure, she used it as a research lab. She was trying to find a way to reverse what they'd done."

"And did she? Is that what you're after?" Catherine held her breath, knowing that wherever he was taking her could hold the possible key to Vincent's humanity.

But Alec scoffed. "Hate to break it to you, but there is no cure. There never will be. If Vanessa couldn't find it, it can't be found."

"Why did she tell you about her secret bunker?"

"Protection. She knew Muirfield was after her."

Catherine stopped walking all together, her mind racing with even more questions than before. Only now, they were laced with anger.

"You were protecting her? Where were you the night she died?!"

"That was not my fault," he argued, grabbing her arm and dragging her along after him.

"You just said you were supposed to be protecting her from Muirfield! But you didn't! She was shot. So, where were you?!"

"She was supposed to be at home all night," he yelled, wheeling around to face her. "I always made sure she made it home safely whenever she went out and when I dropped her off that night, she said she was going straight to bed. She was supposed to call me if she went anywhere. She didn't!"

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Probably because she didn't see the danger in running out to meet her daughter."

"Meaning, if I hadn't have called her, she'd still be alive."

Alec didn't respond, but kept the grip on her arm and started moving again. She couldn't bring herself to ask any more questions. Her worst fears had come true; her mom was dead because of her. She'd called her out there, away from the safety of Alec's protection. She didn't even bother to wipe away the tears as they fell down her face.

They walked miles into the woods, but Catherine barely noticed until they spotted an old, rundown house before them.

"I take it no one's been here in a while," Alec commented.

"Muirfield probably wiped it out after she died," Catherine guessed, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"That's the beauty of it; they can't."

That woke her up. "What do you mean?"

"Part of the deal was that she was the only one who could get in. They installed retina scanners and fingerprint… thingies."

"But if she was the only one who could get in, then why are we out here? Are you going to punch through the door or something?"

"Can't. The door to the underground bunker is made of reinforced steel. But she did install a new little addition before she died. A DNA scanner."

Alec opened the door to the ancient house and the inside smelled of mold and decay. Leaves scattered the floor and the few pieces of furniture scattered about had been severely moth-eaten.

"A DNA scanner? You mean it takes blood?"

"Yep. At first I thought it was just another precaution to keep the other agents out, but then I re-read a letter she left to you before she died."

They'd reached the spare bedroom at the end of the house and Alec moved the rug aside, revealing a solid metal door in the floor.

"A letter? I never received a letter," she explained, eyeing the door with both fear and excitement.

"That's because it never made it to you." At this, he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved an old, well-worn letter, handing it to her. "Most the letter is about how she loves you and blah, blah, blah, but at the end she scribbled something that I'd thought was nonsense. And then it hit me."

"'Our most precious possessions hold the key to our hearts'," Catherine read, studying the paper in her shaking hands.

"'Our most precious possessions… holds the key.' And what could be more precious than your oldest daughter?"

Catherine's eyes made their way slowly from the letter to Alec's all-knowing smirk as the realization hit her.

"My blood is the key."

Alec's smile grew wider. "Bingo."

~BATB~

She had no idea if she was making the right decision, but something just felt so wrong. As she stood outside the door to JT's warehouse, Heather shifted nervously from foot to foot before finally deciding to knock. Surprisingly, JT threw open the door as if he'd been expecting her.

"Heather? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure."

He let her in, guiding her to the couch. "What happened?"

"It's Cat. She left with Alec, but–"

"Left with Alec?! Where? When?"

"Okay, now I'm even more freaked out. I thought he was your friend."

"Friend is a stretch," JT explained, wringing his hands nervously.

"Normally, I don't question when she goes out with someone, but… she seemed scared. Cat doesn't get scared."

"Did they say where they were going?"

"No, and I don't think she knew either. He said it was a surprise."

JT jumped up from the couch, heading for the stairs. "I'll find her. You should go back home."

But instead of leaving, she followed him up, surprised to find a man in a cage.

"Get me out. Now," the man shouted, while JT fumbled with the key.

"Um… what's going on," Heather asked.

"We don't have time to explain," JT spoke as he finally worked the lock. "Did you hear all of that?"

"I did and we have to find her now," the man ordered, running across the room and retrieving his phone. He dialed a number, but slammed the phone down on the table seconds later. "She didn't answer!"

"Who are you," Heather inquired, gawking at the man before her.

JT sighed. "Heather, this is Vincent. Vincent, Heather. Now, where do we start looking?"

"I have no idea! It's not like we hung out," Vincent yelled.

"Okay, I have an idea," Heather spoke up, shaking a little at the rage rolling off Vincent. "I can call Tess. She can track Cat's phone."

"That… is a great idea. Do that," JT suggested. "I'll start the car."

**A/N:** So, what do you think Alec's ulterior motives are? I love hearing your thoughts!


	14. Secrets Lie Within

**A/N: **Time to break into a secret Muirfield bunker and learn a little more about Alec's motives. Just don't expect the full story quite yet. And cue the beast!

Chapter 14: Secrets Lie Within

Her blood was the key. Inside this room was the legacy her mother left for her to find. It was all too mind-blowing to comprehend and her mixed emotions left her frozen to the spot. But with the feelings also came revelations as all the pieces of Alec's appearance began to fit together.

"My shirt… the drugs had me so messed up I didn't remember but… Heather brought it to me in the hospital," Catherine remembered. "Where I probably got blood on it."

"You did."

"And my coffee mug, if I really had forgotten to wash it the night before, it would have had my DNA on it."

"Right again. Unfortunately the DNA scanner requires it to be fresh. Otherwise I would have had no reason to inconvenience your little lives. Now, it should only take a drop." Alec made to grab her hand, but she pulled away from him.

"No, I'm not done yet. If this was really all you're after, why not just come right out and say it?"

"Look, I'm normally pretty good at getting what I want. I thought that if I gained Vincent's trust, I'd gain yours. Clearly it didn't work. So now we're on to the threats. Now, would you like to do the honors, or should I?"

"We would have helped you without all the secrecy!"

"Sweetheart, if you think the secrets end here, your sadly mistaken. Give me your hand."

Something about this just didn't feel right to her and given Alec's track record for lies and deceit, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was.

"What's down there that's so important you'd go through all this to get it? Her research? Are you planning on continuing it or something?"

"I told you, it's pointless. There is no cure."

"Then what?"

"You'll find out when I'm ready to tell you."

Without another word, he gripped her hand so tight, she feared the bones would break.

"Sorry about this, but I didn't think to bring a knife," he apologized, smiling maliciously as he brought her hand up to his mouth. His face changed for only a second and then his teeth came down on her finger, slicing through the tender skin.

She had to bite down on her lip to keep from screaming and as he pulled her hand away, dark red blood was trickling down her arm. Forcing her to her knees, he placed her bloody finger over the scanner beside the door.

At first, there was only a beeping sound, but then the latch clicked and Alec swung open the door.

"We're in," he exclaimed triumphantly, rushing down the stairs.

Catherine wrapped her finger in her shirt to stem the blood flow and reluctantly followed him down. Everything was pitch black and with a sudden click, light from the fluorescence flooded the room, momentarily blinding her.

It was much bigger than she'd expected, and dust and cobwebs clung to every surface. There were tables upon tables holding various lab equipment and outdated computers. One entire wall was filled with filing cabinets and just to the right of the door was a cork board filled with pictures. Several were of her and Heather, snapshots of their life. She spotted one from her seventh birthday and another of Heather's first car.

But the others were of faces she'd never seen before. Muscular men in camo pants sat around smiling as they shared a beer in the desert. Staring at the picture closely, she recognized one of them – Vincent as a young soldier. Smiling, she took it from the wall and shoved it in her jacket pocket. And then her gaze found another familiar face – her dad. He stood with Silverfox and a man she'd never seen.

A loud slamming filled the room as Alec tore through file cabinet after file cabinet, and she hesitantly approached him.

"What's in these," she asked, pulling open the one closest to her.

"Her entire life's work mostly. All the soldiers she experimented on, how she came up with this stuff in the first place."

Catherine scanned through the folders, but barely recognized the complicated scientific words scrawled across the tops. This was Vincent and JT territory. She shut that drawer and opened the next one, surprised to find the notations on the folders inside.

"This one is marked with cities. You think she traveled this much?" But her statement triggered excitement in Alec and he rushed over, nearly knocking her out of the way.

"That's what I need. Thanks Detective."

"What is it?"

But instead of responding, he pulled the New York file from the cabinet and began laying out blueprint after blueprint, studying each one with care.

"Wait… are these all Muirfield facilities," she asked.

"Not all of them. Some are affiliates or contractors." He spoke in barely a whisper and she knew she could sneak back up the stairs now and he'd never even notice… but what if there was something in these cabinets that could help Vincent? What if there was a cure? Alec had been dishonest so far.

While he studied the blueprints, she made her way down the line, finding the folders of the soldiers including Vincent's. There, she was transfixed. Her mom had documented everything; Vincent's physical attributes, his life story, his reactions to the injections. She had to take this with her and show Vincent.

But just as she was laying it on the table to search the remainder of the filing cabinets, Alec's hand came down hard on her arm.

"What is–" But Alec's hand on her mouth cut her off and he stood silently before her, listening.

"Someone's here," he explained, shoving the blueprints inside his coat and pulling her back towards the stairs. She couldn't hear a thing, but knew he had to be right.

Silently, they made their way back up stairs and Alec stooped down to examine the door.

"How did I not see that," he whispered, quietly cursing and motioning to a small black object beside the door.

"See what?"

"Muirfield must have installed it. It's an alarm set to go off if the door's opened."

"Meaning they're on their way here."

Alec nodded and closed the door, listening for the lock before taking Catherine's hand and leading the way out.

"Can you tell how many there are," she inquired, running to keep up with him as he pulled her through the trees.

"A lot, but they're not close yet. We still have time to make it out."

But they didn't make it more than a few feet when something slammed into Alec – hard. The two figures went flying to the ground and by the time Catherine's human eyes focused on the scene, Vincent had his hand around Alec's throat. Thankfully, he was fully himself.

"Vincent? How are you here," she shrieked, but he only tightened his grip in response. Alec somehow managed to flip Vincent over his head and make it to his feet. Before anyone could attack again, Catherine ran in between them.

"We don't have time for this! Vincent, Muirfield's here. We have to move," she explained.

"Muirfield?"

"It's more than we can explain right now," Alec muttered impatiently. "Like she said, we have to move!"

"Catherine," Heather called as she ran forward, nearly tackling Catherine as she hugged her. "We were so worried about you."

"Heather? Why are you here? And–"

"I'm sorry; did you just say something about Muirfield," JT asked, finally joining the group.

"I can hear them," Vincent realized, stepping forward to wrap his arm around Catherine's waist.

Alec rolled his eyes. "Good for you. Now if we move fast and stick to the shadows, we might make it out. Hurry." With those instructions, he took off through the trees in a blur.

"Did he just leave us here," Heather exclaimed in a squeak.

Vincent's senses were on overdrive and as Catherine watched his anxious face, she knew their chances were slim.

"The trees," he finally stated. "We need to climb; hide in the trees until they pass by."

"I can't climb," Heather hissed, staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. "I don't know how to climb! How am I supposed to–"

But before she could finish, Vincent grabbed her and JT around the waist and vaulted into the tree, sitting them safely on a branch and leaping back down for Catherine. She didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck and they were on another branch before she could breathe.

"Just keep quiet," Vincent ordered, his arms still around Catherine's waist.

It felt like an eternity, but they finally saw the first signs of movement below as five men dressed in black and carrying assault rifles moved past their tree. Catherine couldn't breathe until they passed by and she spotted JT covering Heather's mouth as she tried not to scream.

"Okay, they're gone. Let's get down," Heather begged, already dropping to a lower limb with the help of JT.

Catherine was about to follow suit when Vincent yanked her back to him.

"No, stay where you are," he whispered and Catherine noticed two more men moving their way, but it was too late.

As they were moving, JT slipped on the branch, causing Heather to lunge for him and shift their weight on the branch, which broke. In a tumble of limbs and tree, JT and Heather found themselves on the ground with two gun barrels pointed at their heads.

Vincent jumped from the tree, sending one guy flying while the other aimed his gun and fired, missing Vincent's head by mere centimeters. Catherine heard him growl before she even made it to the ground and the other man was dead in seconds.

"Okay, we need to get out of here now," JT ordered, helping Heather to her feet, but as Vincent came closer, she screamed in terror.

"Heather, it's okay," Catherine assured her.

"What's wrong with his face," she asked, clutching JT.

"I explained this, remember," JT reminded her. But Heather was hysterical and as Catherine got closer, she saw why. Vincent was no longer in control. His eyes were feral and as the sound of more agents moving their way reached them, Vincent took off into the night.

"Get her out of here," Catherine yelled, running after Vincent.

Alec had taken her gun; she had no weapon except her own two hands. But she refused to leave Vincent here alone, no matter what he turned into.

He was too fast for her, but the sound of screams and growls soon filled the air, pointing her in the right direction. As she pushed through an overgrown bush, she saw Vincent fighting two men at once while a third lifted his gun. Without thinking, she rushed the third man, knocking his gun from his hand and landing a punch to his head. A knee to the gut and a round kick had him unconscious, but she could hear others converging on them.

Sure enough, an agent flew out of the trees and Vincent was on him before he could react, but more followed. There were too many.

Catherine stood her ground and was preparing to fight the man that came at her when someone else stepped in. Alec's face was as beastly as Vincent's but his moves were much more controlled. As the two monsters fought around her, keeping her safely in the center, she couldn't help but be horrified by the ruthlessness of the attacks. Vincent had no control; he was purely driven by the animal within him, but Alec simply had no remorse.

Yes, these men were trying to kill them, but that didn't always justify taking a life. Once their attackers lay dead at their feet, Catherine knew she had to bring Vincent back before any more took their place.

"Vincent," she yelled, approaching him slowly, gauging his reaction.

At his name, he spun to face her, growling menacingly.

"Catherine, you're his key," Alec explained, now back to his normal self. "You're the only one that can bring him back. Whatever you do, make sure he knows you love him and that you're not afraid."

That was easier said than done. One moment, Vincent's yellow eyes were murderous and the next she found herself pinned to a tree with him bearing down on her.

"Vincent, please. I love you. I need you to come back to me. Please!"

Confusion soon took the place of all the hostility and as he stared at her, his yellow eyes softened. Those eyes weren't the eyes of _her _Vincent, but the love in them was. Gently, he lifted one clawed hand and ran it down her face. She knew she should be afraid or maybe even appalled, but all she felt was such love and happiness that he was here with her.

"If your back in the real world, there's more coming," Alec warned, and Vincent's eyes roamed the trees.

At first, Catherine was afraid she'd lost him again, but when his face turned back to hers, he smiled… if a beast can smile.

"I think we're better off making an escape," Alec suggested and Catherine suddenly found herself in Vincent's arms, flying through the woods. She leaned in close, burying her face in his shoulder and trusting him to get them out alive.

Soon, the sounds of cars passing on the street grew closer and they emerged from the woods just beside the bar.

"Alec, you have my keys," Catherine called, looking over to him, only to find him gone. "Where did he go?"

"I have no idea." Vincent was now back to his normal self, but with no keys, they had no getaway.

And then a car came screeching into the parking lot.

"Get in," JT instructed as Heather threw open the passenger door. Vincent and Catherine both squeezed into the back seat and JT took off down the road.

"What about Alec," Catherine asked, staring out the back glass, but there was no sign of him.

"We're not going back. Besides, he can clearly handle himself," JT argued, foot glued to the gas.

No one dared to speak, each waiting for their heart rate to slow. As the trip back to the warehouse wore on, Catherine's earlier sense of excitement over what she'd just discovered in that bunker came back to her and she desperately wanted to tell them about it, but then she noticed Heather.

Her little sister looked seconds away from a panic attack and she noticed her flinch every time Vincent shifted in the back seat. She wondered exactly what JT had told her and for a few seconds, was extremely angry with him. In matters of men and heartbreak, Heather was a lot stronger than she was, but she wasn't cut out for this type of drama. So… why was she here in the first place?

"Are you okay," Vincent asked Catherine. Sadness overcame his face when he noticed Heather's reaction to his voice.

"I'm fine."

But as she spoke, Vincent's eyes landed on the dried blood on her hand from Alec's bite; blood that had also stained her shirt.

"What happened?"

"It's… kind of a long story."

"We still have another twenty minutes before we make it back to the warehouse," JT reminded them, looking up into the rearview mirror expectantly. "Why don't you share what the back-stabber was up to."

Catherine glanced up at Heather, worried, but she saw that under the fear was curiosity.

"How much did you tell her," she asked JT.

"Everything; including the parts about mother dearest and your dad."

"Good. Well…" Catherine recounted the entire trip, rushing past the part where Alec had bitten her finger – after Vincent's sudden rigidity – and explaining the awe of the laboratory beneath the ground. Once again, she wondered why Alec was so bent on getting those blueprints.

Vincent echoed her thoughts. "Blueprints? He did all this for blueprints of some building?"

"Yeah, I don't know. Maybe Muirfield has something hidden there."

"But what?"

"This is crazy," Heather muttered from the front seat.

"I know this is a lot to take in," JT began, but Heather gave a shaky laugh.

"No, no. I'm just waiting to wake up. And I will, because this has to be a dream. Maybe Frank Sinatra will pop up in the middle of the road and tell me what it was that caused my brain to come up with this one. Although I think I'd rather it be Justin Bieber."

"Heather," Catherine warned, wishing she had more reassuring words.

"Don't explain. My sister's in love with a guy that turns into some… beast thing and my boyfriend is hiding him in his warehouse. What else is there to explain? I'm sure for a cop this is normal for you, but I don't see much of this in my line of work."

"Heather, I promise we can talk about this until it's not so scary," Catherine reassured her. "Vincent won't hurt you. He is the kindest, most amazing man I've ever met, and if you'll just let me explain, you'll see that too."

"Yeah, I think I'd rather take a giant sleeping pill and see how things look in the morning."

They let the conversation drop, knowing it was pointless. But another troubling thought was surfacing in Catherine mind now. What was in Muirfield that Alec wanted so badly? If there really wasn't a cure, what else would he need?

Surely he wasn't doing all this for revenge. If that was the case, he'd simply kill the men responsible, just like he'd threatened to do. No, he was after something; something he'd clearly do anything to get.

She just prayed that Vincent didn't end up paying the price for his determination.

**A/N:** I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. It is amazing to hear your theories and support!


	15. Troubles with I Do

**A/N:** So, I have had almost no time to write this week. I hope this chapter didn't come out too rushed. Let me know what you think! And, by the way, how great was that People's Choice win!

Chapter 15: Troubles with "I Do"

Catherine stared in the mirror at the unrecognizable woman staring back. She was so not bridesmaid material and yet, here she was dressed in this pink gown about to walk down the aisle behind a silly bouquet of flowers. What was she thinking?

Oh right, her dad's happiness.

Rolling her eyes, she slumped down in a chair while the other girls touched up their make-up, each gushing about shoes and hors d'oeuvres and dancing. Not only was this outside her element, she didn't even have a date. How pathetic!

To get her mind off the pitying looks to come, she focused on Vincent. Not that he wasn't in a precarious situation himself. On the one hand, they'd finally discovered the secret to keeping him in his right mind; her. As long as he focused on her, he'd be in control, even as the beast. They'd tested the theory time and time again and so far it seemed to work. Not only that, but since he'd been regularly bringing the beast out, there had been no more blackouts. Just like Alec had said.

Alec. The concern was back in the pit of her stomach again.

They hadn't seen or heard from him since the woods that night and that was over a week ago. He could be dead for all they knew – not that the concept was necessarily upsetting. Honestly, Catherine was more concerned with the fact that they'd definitely landed on Muirfield's radar and there was no telling how long it would be before they came for her or JT and eventually found Vincent.

And here she was behind enemy lines. There was no doubt her dad was at the top of the Muirfield food chain now. The picture had finally convinced her. She had no idea how many agents would be at the wedding – a theory Vincent had voiced himself. But she'd assured him that her dad would never allow anyone to hurt her at his wedding. At least… she thought he wouldn't. And JT was here.

"Hey, Cat, you sure you don't want to try this shade? It really brings out your skin tone," Heather called, waving a tube of lipstick her way.

"No, I'm good." As the other girls turned worried eyes to her, she decided she needed a break. "I think I'll go get some air. I'll be back."

Before anyone could ask more questions, she was out the door and striding down the hall. With guests arriving, there weren't many places she could go, but she'd hide in the bathroom for an hour if it meant escaping this.

She wasn't paying enough attention to her surroundings, so she was surprised when she ended up outside the door to the groom's dressing room. Her dad was on the other side, with all his secrets and lies, preparing to skip down the aisle into happiness. Didn't he care that he'd thrown an innocent man's life into turmoil? Or that he'd committed mass murder in order to save his own skin?

The questions were overwhelming and she had to get the answers now!

Before she could chicken out, she knocked on the door, fuming as she heard the excited voices inside. When the door was finally thrown open, she was struck speechless by the sight of the man on the other side.

"Hello, Catherine," Artie Shane greeted, a malicious smirk on his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, if you had bothered to come to the rehearsal dinner, you would have known that I'm one of your father's groomsmen. What was your excuse again? Not feeling well?"

"Where's my dad? I need to talk to him," Catherine demanded, refusing to let this man intimidate her.

"Oh, I'm sure you do. But, unfortunately, he's stepped out. If you feel safe roaming the halls by yourself, you might bump into him."

With one last wicked smile, he shut the door in her face. She was just mad enough to kick it down and take her frustration out on him, but the fact that her father wasn't in the changing room bothered her for some reason. It was her detective's instinct kicking in, telling her something just wasn't right.

The halls were quiet as she continued down them, searching for any sign of her dad. Was she imagining the sensation of eyes watching her?

Just as she reached a corner, a firm hand covered her mouth while another wrapped around her waist, holding her close. She struggled at first, but there was only one set of arms that could hold her with that much love and tenderness.

"Vincent," she mumbled against his hand to the response of his light chuckle.

"So, this is the dress? I like it… but I think it will look better once I take it off tonight," he whispered huskily in her ear, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"I like the sound of those plans."

He released her and she turned to face him, nervously gazing up and down the hall.

"What are you doing here? We have no idea how many people from Muirfield my dad invited," she reminded him.

"That's why I'm here. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here by yourself."

"Vincent, this place is packed with people. It's the opposite of alone."

As she spoke, the sound of footsteps making their way down the hall reached their ears and Vincent pulled them into an empty room, closing the door behind them.

"Relax. No one will see me," he assured her. "I just…"

He froze mid-sentence, gazing curiously around the room.

"What is it?"

"Alec. I can smell him," he explained, moving further into the room.

"He was here? Why?"

"I have no idea, but… I think someone was in here with him. There's another scent. It's fresh."

"Do you know whose it is," Catherine asked as an awful idea occurred to her. Vincent shook his head. "My dad wasn't in his room when I went to talk to him. You don't think Alec was here to see him, do you?"

"It's possible. But why would he disappear for over a week and then show up at your father's wedding?"

Catherine had no answer, but immediately pulled her phone from her small purse, dialing her father's number. It rang for so long, she was about to hang up. And then, a terribly familiar voice answered.

"Looking for Daddy," Alec asked.

"Where is he? What do you want with him?"

"Nothing much. If he tells the truth, he'll make it back in time for his wedding. But there's just something about you Chandlers that's so stubborn."

"Alec, whatever it is you're looking for, hurting him isn't the answer. Please, just let him go."

"Sorry, Princess, but you'd be surprised how much gets done with violence. I'll give him your love."

Before she could protest, the line disconnected and she stared horrified at the silent phone.

"We have to do something," she urged, quickly dialing another number. "Hey, Tess, I need a favor. I need you run my dad's number and tell me his location. It's urgent."

"Alright, just give me a sec. Is everything okay, Cat? Is he in trouble," Tess questioned, barely hiding the urgency in her tone.

"It's a long story. I'll explain later."

"Don't tell me he got cold feet–"

"Tess, I need the address now!"

"Okay, okay. It uh… that's odd."

"What," Catherine demanded, growing more impatient by the minute.

"You remember that warehouse we went to months ago? About the Webster case?"

This wasn't good. "Yeah, I remember," she answered in a small voice.

"Well, that's were his phone is. Oh, wait, Heather's bringing that JT guy to the wedding. Maybe your dad was over there visiting and left his phone there. It wouldn't be the first time he got all overprotective dad."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks, Tess."

Catherine shoved her phone back in her purse with her gun and shared a worried look with Vincent.

"It makes sense," Vincent grimaced. "He knew none of us would be there today. And it's protected."

"We have to get there now."

Catherine was about to head for the door when Vincent grabbed her. "Not that way. If people see you leaving, they'll ask questions."

"What other way is there?"

He steered her towards the window, throwing it open and pulling her up in his arms. There wasn't enough time to complain, so instead she buried her face in Vincent's shoulder as he stepped out onto the ledge.

And then they were falling. She felt his firm landing on the ground just before she was back on her feet. They ran to her car in silence and were soon speeding down the road.

"Should I call Tess? Have backup," she asked, taking a turn at breakneck speed.

"It won't matter. They can't catch him and it might make him panic."

"What," she began, but could barely fathom her question. "What if we get there… and he's…"

"Your dad will be fine. I won't let anything happen to him or you!"

Her eyes strayed from the road to meet Vincent's determined gaze and couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit reassured.

They were at the warehouse ten minutes later and Catherine leaped out of the car only to find herself entangled in Vincent's restraining arms.

"Wait, let me go first."

"Vincent, I have my gun and I'm not waiting!"

He let her go, but forced her behind him as they proceeded into the warehouse. They didn't have to go far. Her father was tied to a chair in the unfinished part of the warehouse while Alec stood over him. Catherine had her gun aimed at his head.

"Let him go, Alec," she shouted, but he ignored her.

"And now, Howard, your daughter gets to watch you die unless you give me the code," he demanded as her father flinched at his words.

"Alec," Vincent yelled. "She said let him go!"

"Not until I get what I need from him."

"I told you," Howard explained through a busted lip, "I don't know it. I'm not involved anymore."

"Really? You're not involved but you could still send an agent to check up on Vincent and Catherine while they were at that cabin? Come on, you and I both know you're still in on Carter's plans."

"Who's Carter? And what do you need from him," Catherine demanded.

"Catherine, don't," Howard urged, turning tortured eyes to his daughter. "Just go. I don't want you involved in this."

"I'm not leaving!"

"Oh, I think you might," Alec taunted, his eyes glaring with renewed mirth. "Why don't you tell her about her mom?"

All the color drained from her dad's face and Catherine lowered her gun by an inch.

"Tell me what," she asked.

But Howard refused to speak.

"Go ahead," Alec mocked. "Tell her how you signed her mother's death warrant."

"What is he talking about," Catherine shouted, and Vincent's arm was instantly around her shoulder.

"Catherine," Vincent warned. "Don't let him get to you."

"I want to know what he's talking about," she yelled.

Howard finally met her gaze once again, with an ancient sadness in his eyes. "I didn't have a choice. She… she was a liability."

"_You_ had her killed?!"

"It w-was Carter's idea. I swear! I didn't want to do it! But he… if I didn't go through with it… he said he kill you and Heather. I had to choose!"

"You set your own wife up to be murdered," Catherine shouted, lunging forward and causing Vincent to tighten his hold on her arms.

"It was either that or lose you! What choice do you think your mother would have made if she had to choose between her daughters or me? She would have let me die in a heartbeat!"

"You have no idea what she would have done! You could have given her a chance to run! You could have saved her!"

Howard turned scornful eyes back to Alec who wore a happy smirk. "Are you happy now?"

"I will be as soon as you give me the access codes to the building," Alec insisted, gripping his arm. "Or should I break your hand instead?"

"Alec, stop! You don't have to hurt him to get what you want," Vincent reasoned.

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"So what is it your after then," Catherine asked. "I saw you take those blueprints. You're trying to get inside one of Muirfield's buildings. Why? What are you after that's so important?"

"You think I'm going to tell you?! I can't trust you! I can't trust anyone," Alec shouted, finally losing the calm façade he wore at all times. In fact, he was so angry his hands were shaking.

It was then that Catherine noticed the biggest difference between Alec and Vincent. Alec wasn't losing control. He never lost control; even now when he was angrier than she'd ever seen him. His advice to her in the woods that night came back to her.

_Catherine, you're his key. You're the only one that can bring him back._

"Who is she," she asked, noticing how Alec froze. "Who is she; the woman you're in love with? I mean, she's the one who keeps you in control, right? Did Muirfield take her?"

Alec stared her down for a moment, clearly deciding whether or not to tell her the truth. "Yes, they did. Eight years ago. And in case you're wondering, she's very dead."

"So, this is about revenge," Vincent asked.

"Not exactly."

"Catherine, please," Howard pleaded, nervous now as Alec prepared to share his secret. "I don't want you involved in this."

"Or are you just scared she'll never look at you the same way again," Alec asked.

"Alec, if you tell us what happened, maybe we can help," Catherine explained, not entirely sure it was the truth. She still didn't trust him, but if Muirfield really had killed the girl he loved she could understand his pain.

Alec locked eyes with her again, deliberating. As he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes softened and a vulnerability she'd never seen came over his face.

"She was pregnant… my girlfriend. We'd just found out she was having a boy when she was taken."

"Pregnant? You mean… was the baby… human," Vincent asked, completely shocked.

"I have no idea. He looked that way on the ultrasound. I never got to see him." Now he glared at Howard, clearly holding him responsible.

"I didn't give the order to have her taken. It was Carter," he explained, earning him a punch in the gut from Alec. Catherine flinched, but was torn over what she'd just learned about her dad.

"Just give me the access codes and all will be forgiven."

"You think Muirfield still has your son," Catherine asked. "How do you know he's not…"

"Dead? Because I know Carter. If he so much as touched a hair on my son's head, his entire family would be dead in a heartbeat. He's using him as leverage."

"Ok, who is Carter," Catherine asked again, officially tired of being in the dark.

"He's one of the five originators of Muirfield," Alec explained while Howard glanced down at his ring.

"You said you got that in college," Catherine remembered.

"Yes," Howard confirmed. "I was dating Vanessa then. Carter was my best friend. The club was Vanessa's idea. She had this dream that… that we could change the world. That we had the power. The double V's in the ring stand for Vox Vocis. It means power. Our friends, Jameson – later known as Silverfox – and R.D. joined as well. It was completely innocent. We simply discussed the ways we would benefit the people. R.D. and I dreamed of becoming district attorneys and putting criminals behind bars. You mother, who was in med school then, had always wanted to cure the most debilitating diseases.

"But Carter… Carter was the most ambitious. He and Silverfox were planning on going into the government. They had all these ideas on what was wrong with the country and how to fix it. He contacted me several years after we'd graduated saying he had jobs for us – life altering jobs. I joined immediately, but your mother was hesitant. R.D. died a year later and we decided to name the organization after him; his last name was Muirfield."

Howard paused, staring down at his feet with a look of defeat. "The job Carter had in mind was enhancing the army… creating super soldiers, but the government wouldn't give him the resources to go through with it. We finally convinced Vanessa to help and at first it looked promising. Carter had to pull some pretty illegal strings to get us access to soldiers in Afghanistan; strings the government still doesn't know he pulled. Given who you're standing beside, I'm guessing you know the rest of the story. It was a failure. We had to cover it up or we would all face serious jail time."

Catherine looked up to meet Vincent's troubled eyes. She didn't know if she could take much more. How could both her parents be involved in something like this?

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you," he apologized. "And… I'm sorry about your mother."

Catherine didn't respond. She couldn't do this anymore.

Without meeting her father's eyes, she leaned into Vincent and whispered her only thought in his ear. "Can you take me home?"

In answer, he took her up in his arms and sprinted back through the building, leaving her father alone to deal with Alec.

**A/N:** Sometimes, the line between right and wrong is seriously blurred. What did you think about Catherine's reaction? Would you have left him there? And what about the Muirfield back story – too far out there?


End file.
